Jailbreak
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: Separated. Bad things happen. Heyes is having trouble with a new gang member, Kid is having a whole lot of other trouble. Mid-outlaw days. c October 1875
1. Devil's Hole

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Jailbreak

Devil's Hole

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Finally," breathed Heyes.

Signal shots echoed through Devil's Hole, announcing approaching riders. The gang, twelve active members strong this year, split up outside of Lowell after last week's bank job. Some of the new men complained about Heyes's group carrying all the money, but the argument didn't last long. Heyes wasn't sure whether it had been the sight of the oncoming posse or his partner's grim face that more effectively stopped the grousing. Two days later Heyes' group separated again. Heyes, old Clarence Jones, and the dandy Horace Beeblemeister, who stylized himself as the Boston Bandit, made it back to Devil's Hole Wednesday. The newest members of Kid's group, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow, were already relaxing in the bunkhouse. The two probationary members left behind in the hideout looked relieved to see Heyes and the others. Jasper's explanation that Kid had ordered their group to split up as well was understandable, but it didn't sooth Heyes one bit. Wheat, Kyle and Lewiston arrived before noon on Thursday.

"What kept you Kid?" muttered Heyes.

The slender dark haired outlaw leader stopped pacing and moved away from the blazing fire. Heyes opened the heavy wooden door of the leader's cabin and peered out, shivering as the chill October air pierced through his white Henley on this late Saturday afternoon.

"Lobo," nodded Heyes as the bushy haired man rode over the hillcrest first.

Heyes sucked in a breath as he realized the bushy haired man held the reins to a second horse. Preacher, slumped in the saddle of Kid's horse, appeared second. A third rider appeared silhouetted in the darkening sky. Wheat was not the man Heyes was expecting.

"What happened to you Preacher? And where is Kid?" hissed a worried Heyes.

The three men slowly walked the horses down the incline into the stable yard. Heyes hurried to join the other men and boys running from the bunkhouse, the barn and the washhouse.

"Terrence," called Wheat, "you and Mark go relieve Kyle."

"What?" asked Mark in surprise.

Seventeen year old Mark, the older of the two probationary members, had sense enough to look to Heyes for confirmation. Fifteen year old Terrence's blue eyes lit up with prospect of doing something more than peeling potatoes or mucking out stalls. The youngest probationary member of the Devil's Hole gang had turned up in Wildwood six weeks earlier, hungry, dressed in a threadbare jacket and too short pants, looking for his older brother. The arrival of Terrence had confirmed Heyes' suspicion that Mark was not a twenty year old experienced thief, but merely a hungry boy trying to make some quick money. Neither of the sandy haired boys had been allowed to participate in any robberies yet.

"You boys got watch duty," ordered Wheat in a somewhat pompous tone. "Us men gots plans to make."

"Go on," agreed Heyes as Wheat and Lobo dismounted. "Two signal shots if someone's coming. If it's a posse, head for the west ridge and out the canyon trail. If it's Kid…"

"Won't be Kid," interrupted Lobo.

Heyes turned slowly from Mark to gaze at the wild haired man. Lobo was now at Preacher's side, holding the injured man as he slid off the horse. Preacher caught the look in Heyes' eyes and elbowed Lobo with a frown.

"Don't you got any sense?" demanded Preacher. "That ain't no way to tell Heyes."

"Tell me what?" demanded Heyes. "Where is Kid?"

"Posse got him," responded Lobo.

"How could you leave him?" hissed the quiet, most dangerous voice of Heyes. "We don't…"

"Didn't have a choice," interrupted Lobo. "Posse was right behind us."

Preacher slumped to the left, clutching his rib cage. Lobo took a step towards the bunkhouse supporting Preacher's weight. The gathered outlaws parted clearing a path to the warmth and shelter of the only home most of them knew.

"That blessed boy saved my life," gasped Preacher.

"What happened?" asked Heyes in frustration.

"Preacher's horse took a bullet, went down a few hours later and threw him," growled Lobo. "Kid put the horse out of its misery and told me to get Preacher out of there or he'd shoot me too!"

"And you believed that?" muttered Heyes under his breath.

Lobo might have thought he was in danger, but Heyes knew his cousin wouldn't have shot the man. Heyes closed his worried brown eyes for a moment. Thinking. Planning. Praying. The leader of the posse, Lowell's Sheriff Anderson was a hard man, but not a killer. No matter what the rest of the posse might want, Anderson's prisoners made it to jail and trial alive. But still, Heyes didn't like Kid letting himself be captured.

"Heyes," called an unpleasant voice.

Heyes snapped open his eyes. The bunkhouse door slammed shut behind Lobo and Preacher as the two men disappeared inside. Wheat shooed Mark and Terrence towards the barn. Jasper stepped closer. Hawkins and Ludlow flanked the tall, rangy man.

"You gonna split up the money now, Heyes?" drawled Jasper.

"Money?" hissed Heyes. "Is that all you can think about?"

Dark brown eyes narrowed and the scowl on his face would have been enough answer for most men, but not Jasper.

"Everybody's back that's expected," prodded the outlaw. "And since your partner's gone and got hisself arrested, I figure…"

"It don't matter what you figure," interrupted Wheat. The burly outlaw tugged on his belt and settled his jeans on his hips as he strode back to stand at Heyes's side. "Heyes does the figuring."

Heyes didn't miss the look of surprise in Jasper's eyes. And quite frankly, Heyes was surprised by the burly man's support. It was a known fact that Wheat and Heyes didn't always see eye to eye. Jasper rocked back on his heels and glanced from Heyes to Wheat and back again to Heyes. Behind the Devil's Hole newcomer, Hawkins and Ludlow shuffled their feet. The two men seemed to ooze away from Jasper. On the outer periphery of the grouped men, old Clarence, Horace and Lewiston exchanged nervous looks.

"I'm figuring it's time for a change," stated Jasper in a soft menacing tone. "And I figure…"

"There you go figuring again," snorted Wheat before the man could finish his threat.

"Wheat, are you backin' Heyes?" asked Jasper with a tone of incredulity. "He's got our money!"

Wheat scratched the stubble beneath his chin. The heavy head tilted to one side and the burly outlaw appeared to be seriously considering Jasper's question.

"Kid ain't back yet, but he will be," replied Wheat. "Are you really gonna be the one to not back his partner?"

Clarence, Horace and Lewiston stepped forward, closer to Heyes and Wheat, while Hawkins and Ludlow distanced themselves a little further from Jasper. Mark and Terrence rode past the group of men as the boys hurried their horses towards Lookout Point. Jasper glared realizing he had lost any chance of truly bucking Heyes' authority, at least for now.

"I want my money," demanded the long legged man.

"The money is locked in my safe," hissed Heyes.

Kid's Christmas gift to Heyes last year was a joke, a puzzle box for Heyes more than anything else. Kid had the instruction manual to the small personal wall safe and changed the combination periodically. Nothing ever kept Heyes out for long, but anything in the safe was not accessible to the rest of the gang.

"Well unlock it then," demanded Jasper.

"Like I told you before," responded Heyes, "we don't split up the take until we're all back at Devil's Hole. _All_ of us."

Jasper rolled his shoulders. Heyes kept a close eye on the outlaw's pistol, but Jasper didn't make a move.

"What's your plan Heyes?" said Jasper in an insolent tone.

"We're gonna pull a jailbreak of course," answered the slender dark haired outlaw leader. Heyes abruptly turned and sauntered back towards the leader's cabin all the while wondering if Jasper would shoot him in the back. Without looking backwards or giving any indication of his worry, Heyes called, "Wheat, did Lobo or Preacher say where the posse caught Kid?"

"At the butte just past the crossroads," answered Wheat.

Heyes entered the leader's cabin, closed the door and leaned back upon it with a sigh. Would the posse haul Kid all the way back to Lowell by horse? Or turn him in at the nearest jail, to be sent back to Lowell by train? The answer to that question might make a jailbreak just a bit harder. Heyes shivered again. The fire was still blazing in the hearth, but now the friendless room seemed cold. Plans began to formulate in his mind. He pushed off the door and moved closer to the fire. Heyes stretched out his long slender fingers towards the warmth.

"Kid I don't know whether to hope they've taken you back to Lowell or the nearest jail," whispered Heyes. "The nearest jail is Porterville."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	2. Porterville

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Porterville

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Unh," Kid groaned.

The posse stopped. The horse's movement no longer jolted Kid's bruised and aching body. The farmer removed the big arm wrapped around Kid's waist, the solid body warmth of the man seated behind him these past several hours disappeared. No longer held securely in the saddle, Kid struggled for balance and attempted to put breath to words.

"Where... you... takin'... me?" gasped Kid. The same question he'd asked when the posse first hauled him up on this sturdy broad backed horse. He struggled to take in another breath. More painful words. "I'm... tellin' ya..., you... got... the wrong... man."

"Shaddup!"

Kid recognized the voice. The ineffectual deputy had called the owner of that voice Hudson. Rough hands grabbed the blond's left arm and pulled hard. Handcuffs behind Curry's back held his arms and shoulders tight. Kid's feet dangled, free of stirrups, on either side of the horse. For a moment he hovered off balance, his blue shirted chest in midair above the head of the black haired man yanking on him. Then Kid's right leg scraped across the saddle horn. Gravity took control. The twenty-one year old blond heard the overweight deputy berating the posse member as he started to fall.

"Hudson, I tol' ya before, you ain't got no call to be so rough on the prisoner," protested Deputy Roscoe Emerson. "Sheriff Anderson, he don't like that…"

Jedidiah Curry didn't like rough treatment either. The young outlaw had only a moment to regret that his angle of descent meant he wasn't gonna land on Hudson and flatten him, before the ground rushed up and slammed into Kid Curry's face.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Oooh," Kid moaned.

Pudgy, plump fingers slapped the tender side of Kid's bruised and beaten face. Not hard, but persistently. Kid tried to open his eyes, well the right eye anyway. The left eye was swollen shut. A blue eye blinked blearily.

"Wake up young fella," encouraged Lowell's deputy.

Kid found himself staring at wide planks. The floor came into focus. The posse had dragged him inside. Dusty brown boots belonging to Lowell's deputy stood in front of him. Kid's head lolled down again. Behind, and to the left, pointed black boots with sharp spiked spurs told Kid the man gripping his left arm was Hudson. Kid's own long legs sprawled, his knees nearly on the floor between the black boots and a pair of wide gray work shoes on his right. The farmer. The big, heavy set, stolid man that pulled Hudson off of him earlier this afternoon. Kid tried to move his legs, attempting to bring his feet forward to stand up. A sharp, stabbing pain in his lower abdomen brought an involuntary hiss out of his mouth.

"Is he hurt?" demanded a familiar voice.

"Had to subdue the prisoner," responded Hudson. There was a challenge in his tone as Hudson continued, "He's Kid Curry of the Devil's Hole gang. I'm sure you can identify him."

A chair scraped across the wooden floor. Heavy footsteps strode towards Kid. Gentle fingers tilted Kid's chin upwards. A blue eye blinked at the stern face peering down at him. Kid recognized Heyes' friend. Lombard Trevors had left Devil's Hole four years ago, shortly after Heyes and Kid returned to Wyoming from Texas. A year later, Trevors came to Devil's Hole after the Simpsonville job to warn them about the newest wanted posters. Every once in a while, Kid would see Heyes' old friend, Porterville sheriff now, in Wildwood. When Kid asked Heyes about Trevors, his partner always laughed. Heyes said good card players were hard to find no matter what they did for a living. Kid didn't know what kind of card player Lom was as he usually spent his time in Wildwood in the company of a certain dark haired lovely lady.

"I can identify most of the Devil's Hole gang," confirmed Sheriff Trevors as he released Kid's face. "What makes you think this man is Curry? That gang doesn't usually ride this far north. I sure hope you're not bringing trouble to my town!"

Kid found himself staring at the floor again. As the conversation continued above his head, he noted Lom's big black square toed boots. The Lowell deputy's dusty brown boots shuffled sideways, distancing Emerson from the formidable Porterville lawman.

"Oh no, no trouble," Emerson hurried to placate Trevors. His eager rush of words tried to explain. "Lowell Bank and Trust was robbed. Our posse has been following the gang's trail all week. They split up and so did we. Caught up with this fella near the crossroads."

"Lot of folks travel those two roads, not just outlaws," stated Trevors in a level non-committal voice.

"Got close enough to get a few shots just before sundown last night," growled Hudson. "We finally caught up with Curry this afternoon after the piebald collapsed..."

"Piebald?" interrupted Trevors in a sharp tone. "Never heard of Kid Curry riding a piebald."

The spurs jangled as the pointed black boots stepped closer to the square toed boots. Kid groaned again as his left shoulder was pulled forward by Hudson's movements. The wide gray work shoes on his right held steady. The farmer tightened his grasp on Kid's arm, supporting his right shoulder.

"I don't care what kind of horse Curry mighta had in the past," snarled Hudson. "Tracks led right to him."

"This boy's horse was a piebald mare, fourteen and a half hands at the most," stated the farmer. "Small horse, built for endurance, not fast riding."

"Curry is a big man," asserted Trevors. "According to rumors, he usually rides a black gelding, sixteen hands at least. Are you sure you've got the right man?"

The men stopped talking. The only sound in the room was a labored wheezing sound coming from Kid's chest. A drop of blood spattered the floor between the pointed black boots and the gray work shoes. His chin, or maybe his nose, was bleeding again.

"The prisoner is Kid Curry," insisted Hudson. "There is a five hundred dollar reward on that outlaw. I'm… we're claiming the reward."

"The boy had his hands raised up when we caught up to him," continued Deputy Emerson. "He talked real peaceable, pretended he didn't know about the robbery, even asked why we were chasing him."

"Hands up? Peaceable?" asked Trevors. The menace in the Porterville Sheriff's tone was palpable. "If this man surrendered peacefully, how did he get in this condition?"

Hudson's pointed black boots took a quick half step backwards. Deputy Emerson's dusty black boots did another nervous shuffle sideways. Kid would have smirked if his face didn't hurt so much.

"Well Hudson here, he got a little overzealous when we captured the prisoner," stammered the Lowell deputy.

"I was trying to get information from Curry about the rest of the gang and the bank's money," protested Hudson.

"By beating it out of him?" demanded Trevors.

"We're real sure he's Kid Curry," interjected Deputy Emerson.

The square toed black boots shifted a smidgen towards the gray work shoes.

"Do you think the prisoner is Kid Curry?" asked Sheriff Trevors.

"I ain't sure at all," answered the farmer. "Kid Curry is known for being a fast draw, this boy didn't have anything but a rifle with him."

"Hmmm," observed Trevors. "If this man is Kid Curry, where is his pistol?"

This time Kid's swollen lips did curl up at Lom's question. After tending the wounded animal the previous night, Lobo had said he thought Preacher's horse was still able to be ridden. That was a mistake. The piebald collapsed later that morning, throwing Preacher. Kid and Lobo had been hard pressed to get Preacher remounted on Kid's black gelding. Lobo was all for sending Preacher back with Kid, not wanting to return to Devil's Hole, and Heyes, without the young blond. Kid had to forcibly remind Lobo that Preacher needed his medical care more than Kid's fast draw. Kid's last minute decision to unbuckle his holster and shove his new Colt into Lobo's surprised hands was primarily to give Lobo another weapon if needed, and only just a little bit so no one would confiscate his treasured forty-five. Kid had spent a lot of time customizing the balance and didn't want to lose the revolver. Kid convinced Lobo that without the handgun he would have a better chance of not getting shot by the posse. Hudson and his angry fists were an unpleasant surprise.

"Identify him!" demanded Hudson. "He's Kid Curry!"

"I can't identify him," objected Trevors. "Look at him! Black eyes, split lip, face all swollen up! Right now I don't think his own mother could identify him."

Kid quit listening to the argument as he passed out again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ow!"

"Sorry about that young man," apologized a soft spoken man dressed in a gray suit with a white starched shirt. "I hoped to finish the stitching before you regained consciousness."

Scissors snipped perilously close to Kid's lower jaw. A cracked white ceiling was overhead. The open blue eye focused balefully on the small man. Kid was stretched out on a cot. It was easier to breathe laying down. Metal bars behind the physician gave evidence of a jail cell.

"There," continued the medical man in a satisfied tone. He sat down the scissors and reached for Kid's shirt. "Now, let's see what we have here."

A big hand flashed and caught the doctor's smaller wrist. The sudden movement pulled aching muscles and Kid found himself sucking in a deep breath.

"Young man," stated the doctor firmly as he withdrew his wrist from the clutches of his patient. "I need to examine you. I'm not going to hurt you, there's been enough of that already."

The white haired man unbuttoned Kid's blue shirt, tutting about the blood stains from the cut beneath Kid's chin and the bloody nose. Then the physician began to examine tender bruised flesh. Kid shivered in the cold cell.

"What's your name?" asked the doctor as he pressed a long slender tube against Kid's chest. "Are you really Kid Curry?"

"Posse got the wrong man, my name is Owens, Henry Owens," rasped Kid. The alias was one he'd used before travelling with Heyes. He felt comfortable with the name, it was family after all. Jedidiah Curry's father had been named Owen, his brother named Henry. "I had my hands raised, surrendering, next thing I know, one of the men was off his horse and…"

He winced as the doctor pressed on a particularly painful spot. Kid's voice faded as he remembered the sudden upper cut to his abdomen, the hard woosh of air as his breath departed. The man's second fist making contact with his chin. Rocks hard beneath his back as he fell next to Preacher's poor dead piebald mare. Heavy fists pummeled his face. Sunlight glinted off the sparkling stone in Hudson's ring.

"Who is President of the United States?" continued the doctor conversationally.

"Huh?

The doctor stopped listening to whatever sounds he could hear through the tube and looked more closely at Kid. Little frown lines appeared between the older man's eyes and his lips pursed for a moment before he asked another question.

"Do you know what day it is?"

Oh. Kid understood. The questions were part of the doctor's examination, just like the stitches, the poking and prodding.

"I don't know how long I was out, but it was Saturday when the posse came upon me," answered Kid, "and Grant is president."

The doctor smiled broadly and patted Kid gently on his arm.

"Good. It's still Saturday. Now, do you think you're able to sit up?" asked the doctor. He helped Kid upright, then felt along the blond's left collarbone. Pushing against the left shoulder joint, the man directed, "lean in."

Kid leaned forward as the medical man pushed against him. Suddenly a minor shift, bone slipped into joint, muscle tension released. Kid exhaled, a grateful sigh of relief as the pain lessened.

"That's better," stated the doctor. "Now let's get your chest wrapped up, then you can lay down and rest."

"In the jail?" questioned Kid.

"Yes, Mr. Owens," answered the doctor as he wrapped white cloth around Kid's bruised torso. "The posse from Lowell brought you here, to Porterville. They asked Sheriff Trevors to keep you in a cell to prevent you from escaping until they could take you back to Lowell by train."

"I'm not…," protested Kid.

"Unfortunately, your face is so swollen and puffy, Sherriff Trevors wasn't able to clearly state you are not Kid Curry," nodded the doctor. "It will be a few days before the swelling goes down enough for this mis-identification to get cleared up."

The doctor's tube, his scissors, the unused wrapping were soon returned to the small black valise beside the man's feet. The soft spoken man pulled out a long narrow pad of paper and a pencil. The doctor jotted down some figures on a piece of long narrow paper.

"Is that the bill?" asked Kid. He felt his pockets. Empty now. "I don't have money..."

"You don't need to worry about this," interrupted the doctor. "Sheriff Trevors insisted that I account for all treatment and bill accordingly. Lom says the town of Lowell will be paying."

The doctor smiled once more at Kid, then reached for the handle of his black bag. Standing, the physician moved to the cell door.

"I know you're hurting, but with the bouts of unconsciousness I don't want to give you laudanum," said the doctor. "There is no major damage. It looks worse than it is."

"Feels worse," murmured Kid as he touched the side of his battered face.

"You should be just fine within a week or two. You just need to rest," continued the doctor. "Are you hungry? I could have the diner send over some broth."

"No," Kid replied. He traced his tender lips with the tip of his right forefinger. Broth sounded hard right now and he wasn't sure his churning stomach would be able to keep it down. "Maybe breakfast?"

The doctor nodded understandingly, then turned towards the front of the jail.

"Deputy Wilkins," called the doctor, "I'm ready to leave. And my patient needs a blanket. It's cold in here."

The sound of shuffling footsteps accompanied the jangling of keys. A tall, gray haired man peered into the cell.

"So is that fella really Kid Curry?" asked Wilkins as he inserted the big black iron key into the lock. "We ain't never had a real notorious outlaw here before."

"Afraid you don't have one now Deputy," responded the doctor with a chuckle. "My patient said his name was Owens."

"He's lying," growled a voice from somewhere past the deputy.

Kid turned his head. One blue eye looked beyond Wilkins to see the man seated beside the sheriff's desk. Hudson frowned and shifted his rifle from one side to the other as the doctor made his goodbyes and disappeared out the front door.

"It's a waste of time for us to have to guard him here," grumbled Hudson. "We should be taking him back to Lowell on the evening train."

"Now that ain't what Sheriff Trevors said," admonished Wilkins. "We ain't got enough manpower to guard your prisoners. Lowell folks have to guard Lowell prisoners, and Sherriff Trevors ain't releasing this fella until we know who he is."

There was a pause in the Porterville deputy's words. Wilkins arched one eyebrow speculatively.

"And iffen he ain't Curry," added Wilkins, "you may find yourself facing some assault and battery charges."

"I'm a duly sworn member of the posse," grumbled Hudson, "subduing a prisoner is part of the job, not assault and battery."

"Did your Sheriff Anderson tell you that?" asked Wilkins. "Sheriff Trevors always tells us deputies in Porterville that a man is innocent until proven guilty, and to treat any prisoner decent. We're lawmen, not vigilantes."

Hudson's only response was a disgruntled snort. The kindly Porterville deputy shuffled back to the front of the jail. He returned a few minutes later carrying a warm red woolen blanket, Kid's floppy brown hat and Preacher's extra black coat.

"Thought you might want the coat and hat too," explained Wilkins.

"Much obliged," agreed Kid.

Kid's own sheepskin jacket was probably still tied to the back of his saddle. With any luck, Preacher and Lobo had made it back to Devil's Hole by now and Heyes would be planning a way to get him outta here. Kid settled back against the pillow. The young blond pulled his hat down over his face and tried to go to sleep, but his mind was spinning. The Devil's Hole gang stayed out of Porterville in deference to Heyes' friendship with their one time gang member. Was Lom trying to help him? Or did Lom really not recognize him? Would Heyes attempt to break Kid out of jail in Porterville? Or wait until Kid was back in Lowell?

"Heyes," murmured Kid as he drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep, "what are you gonna do?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	3. Plans Within Plans

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Plans Within Plans

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The voices in the bunkhouse hushed when Heyes entered several hours later. He was fully dressed now, the long dark hair slicked back. The sleeves of his white Henley peeked out from beneath the cuffs of the fitted black shirt Heyes wore over his buff colored pants. Heyes strode across the long, narrow room, catching the eye of each man and boy there. Mark and Terrence were back. Old Clarence and Lewiston were gone, so they must have drawn the short straw and got the midnight watch. The normally loquacious outlaw leader remained silent until he reached Preacher's bedside.

"How is he?" asked Heyes.

"Nothin's broke," answered Lobo, "but he ain't gonna be fit to ride for at least a week."

Preacher attempted to sit up, but Lobo's hand pressed him back down on the bed.

"I wanna help get Kid," protested Preacher. He, like the other gang members, recognized their leader was ready to ride. "When we leavin'?"

A gentle smile flitted across Heyes' face for an instant and then disappeared.

"Nah Preacher, you're not going this time," replied Heyes in a soft voice. "You just worry about getting well and keeping Lobo in line while the rest of us are gone."

Preacher started to say something, but Kyle spoke first.

"Heyes, you got a plan?" blurted out Kyle.

The slender dark haired man spun around on his heels. Heyes spread his arms wide and flashed a disarming smile at the faces staring anxiously back at him.

"Kyle," asked Heyes in a tone of mock reproach, "when do I ever not have a plan?"

"All of us? We're all going?" asked young Terrence eagerly. "Even probationary members?"

Heyes looked at the hopeful blue eyed fifteen year old. Seventeen year old Mark gave his younger brother a worried glance.

"He don't mean boys…," began Mark."

"Actually, the plan is gonna need all of us except Preacher and Lobo," interrupted Heyes.

"Woo hoo!" shouted Terrence, sounding almost like a gleeful younger version of Kyle.

Heyes' dark brown eyes went from Mark's worried face to Wheat's surprised glare as the room filled with a babble of questions and exclamations.

"What?"

"All of us?"

"We ride at first light," ordered Heyes. Polished black boots stalked across the cabin floor. It wasn't until Heyes reached the door that he added, "Wheat, Kyle, come with me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kyle and me should be going with you to rescue Kid," grumbled Wheat later in the leader's cabin.

Empty coffee cups cluttered the table between the three men. The burly outlaw frowned at Heyes, while his smaller partner nodded in agreement. Heyes ran his fingers through his dark hair, pushing it back from his tired eyes, and glared at the men in frustration. He'd explained the plan twice now, and Wheat was still arguing.

"You're needed at Lookout Point," reminded Heyes.

"Kid said we had to watch out for you. To watch Jasper," replied Wheat. "That man ain't nothin' but a walkoff!"

Heyes's lips curled up in a smirk to hear Kid's very apt description of Jasper. Wheat and Kyle weren't the only ones that Kid had entrusted with Heyes' security. Old Clarence had said something very similar earlier this evening.

"We can trust Jasper to take care of himself. He's already proven he knows how to make a beeline for Devil's Hole if anyone's chasing him," reminded Heyes. "And I think he can manage to get on and off a train or stagecoach."

Wheat finally gave a grudging nod.

"Kyle is needed at Lookout Point," added Heyes. "He's the only man I trust to dynamite the boulders there if it comes to that."

Kyle's face lit up with a bright smile. His blue eyes shone at Heyes' praise.

"And you're needed to watch Kyle's back. That isn't something I can entrust to Jasper," reminded Heyes. Wheat gave another nod. "Besides, I hate to separate good partners."

"Mebbe you're right Heyes," replied Wheat. The burly outlaw qualified his acceptance, "This time."

"Glad you agree Wheat," responded Heyes as he shooed the two long-time members of the Devil's Hole gang to the door. "We'll be riding out in two hours."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Whoa," called Heyes just before midday Sunday afternoon.

The procession of riders behind him gathered around. First, Horace Beeblemeister, the dandy who hated dust in his face, pulled up next to Heyes. Horace sat twirling the pointed ends of his narrow, waxed black moustache as the sandy haired teens, Mark and Terrence, rode up. Lewiston, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow reined in behind the probationary members. Old Clarence, who had insisted on carrying his loaded rifle across his saddle the entire ride from Devil's Hole, brought up the rear.

"Here? You want us to stop here?" asked Jasper incredulously. "There is nothing here!"

"On the contrary," objected Heyes with just a hint of annoyance showing in his eyes. He pointed to the copse at the left of the trail. "Shelter from prying eyes."

Heyes nudged his horse forward another few feet. The sound of a babbling brook could be heard as he neared the trees. Heyes smiled.

"Water," added Heyes. He nudged the bay further up the slight incline, stopping at the edge of the rocky outcropping. Jasper, Ludlow and Hawkins followed. Pointing to the railroad tracks below, Heyes smiled in satisfaction. Oncoming trains would have to slow to negotiate the curve and steep rise. "And transportation, the line from Porterville south to Lowell, Cheyenne, and points south."

A grunt of surprise came from Jasper. The other two men nodded. Heyes turned back to face Horace, Mark, Terrence, Lewiston and Clarence.

"The rest of you set up camp here. Stay outta sight," ordered Heyes. "Jasper, come with me."

"What?" squawked Jasper. The tall, rangy man leaned back, dark eyes flitting from one gang member to another. "We just got here! Where we going?"

"We're going to Porterville," stated Heyes. "Need to make sure the posse didn't bring Kid there before we jump the freight train the evening."

"But why do you want me to go along?" protested Jasper.

"Two men riding in together might not look as conspicuous as a lone rider," answered Heyes. He wasn't going to tell Jasper he wanted to keep an eye on him. With a sardonic gleam in his eyes, the slender man added, "Besides, I thought you might want to watch out for me."

"Now why would I want to do that Heyes?" sneered Jasper.

"Because I'm the only one that can open the safe back at Devil's Hole," replied Heyes. His smile spread across his face, dimpling his cheek. "Anything happens to me, you don't get your money."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Is Kid in there?" hissed Jasper.

The recalcitrant outlaw rolled another barrel over to the back of the Porterville jailhouse. The alley between the rear of the jail and the mercantile on the next street was cluttered with empty barrels and crates. Heyes balanced precariously on the lid of the first barrel. Inside, Lom was at his desk. A man with wavy black hair sat nearby cleaning a rifle. In the cell nearest Lom, a man lay stretched out on a cot. A floppy brown hat covered his face and he looked to be sleeping. Heyes felt the tension leave his neck and shoulder muscles as Jasper climbed upon the lid of the second barrel.

"Kid looks comfortable," observed Jasper in a whisper. He kept on jabbering in a low voice. "We ought to leave him. Even if he's convicted, he probably won't get but six months, a year at the most for a first robbery conviction. Winter is coming, he'll be warm inside the penitentiary. Hell, the way Kid complains about cold, he might even like it."

Heyes' breath caught. Six months. A few years back, he had spent six months in the Nebraska Penitentiary. A lot could happen in six months. Six months could change your whole life.

"No!" exclaimed Heyes. He lowered his voice. "We don't leave anyone behind."

"Why?" challenged Jasper.

"It's bad for business," answered Heyes automatically. The outlaw leader tried to sound as detached and cynical as possible. He couldn't let Jasper know the real reason. "If men from Devil's Hole get captured, sooner or later one of 'em is gonna lead a posse back into the Hole."

"You don't trust anyone Heyes, do you?" asked Jasper with a snide laugh. "Not even your own partner!"

Dark brown eyes widened. Heyes flashed a world weary smile as if in agreement. Before anything more could be said, the front door of the jail opened. A plump man waddled inside and made his way to Lom's desk. A second man, large, sturdy and barrel chested, plodded into the room after the deputy. Outside, Heyes and Jasper ducked lower, out of sight, listening as voices carried down the corridor of the small jail to the rearmost window.

"Deputy Emerson," greeted Lom.

"Sheriff Trevors," responded the pompous voice of the deputy, "My men and I will be returning to Lowell tomorrow."

Heyes took the chance to peek in through the bars again. The black haired man was now standing beside the deputy, while the barrel chested man had taken his seat and appeared to settle in for a long wait.

"With our prisoner," added the portly deputy in a nervous, hurried rush of words.

Even from this distance, Heyes could see Lom's shoulder tighten, his jaw set in a frown. Lom very slowly and deliberately gathered the papers scattered across his desk, thumped them on the edge, then laid the squared off pile of reports down, before speaking.

"Your prisoner has not yet been positively identified," reminded Trevors.

"We got witnesses in Lowell," countered the pudgy man. The pompous tone returned. "I'm confident that the prisoner is Kid Curry, bank robber, train robber, shootist for the Devil's Hole gang."

There was a momentary silence. Emerson tugged at his collar as the stern Sheriff stared at the sweating deputy. Lom reached a decision. Jasper raised his head up besides Heyes to peek inside.

"Fine. If the doc clears that boy to travel tomorrow, then we'll go," stated Trevors.

Heyes' dark brown eyes widened at Lom's words, but Deputy Emerson's face turned bright red.

"We?" spluttered Deputy Emerson. His voice rose higher in incredulity. "You're going too?"

"Certainly, you're out of your jurisdiction," stated Trevors, "I will be glad to escort the prisoner and see him released into Sheriff Anderson's custody."

There was a moment of stunned silence from the deputy as his face darkened an even deeper hue. The man's double chins wobbled as he clenched his teeth. Outside, Heyes hissed softly to himself in frustration, _"Lom, what are you doing? You need to stay outta this!"_

"Hmmph!" huffed Emerson finally. The Lowell Deputy gestured to the black haired man standing beside him. "Hudson, come on."

As the jail door slammed shut, Heyes jumped off the barrel, waving for Jasper to follow.

"Hurry, I want to see where they go," hissed Heyes.

Heyes reached the edge of the alley in time to see Emerson and Hudson cross the street and turn to go down the boardwalk. Jasper grabbed Heyes' arm and pulled him back into the shadows.

"What do you think you're doing?" protested Heyes shaking his arm to loosen Jasper's grasp. "We need to find out what those men are planning. I already told you, we won't divvy up the take until everyone is back. No Kid, no money!"

"Money ain't everything! It won't do me any good if I'm dead Heyes," warned Jasper, his black eyes wild with worry. "We can't go out there just yet."

Heyes blinked in surprise. For a minute there, Jasper almost made good sense.

"What?" demanded Heyes. "Why can't we go out there?"

"That fella the deputy called Hudson," answered Jasper, "his real name is Bart Barstow… Black Bart Barstow from down Yuma way."

"Never heard of him," responded Heyes.

The slender dark haired man stepped towards the street. Jasper grabbed Heyes' arm again, clawing at the sleeves of Heyes' dark fitted jacket.

"But I know him," hissed Jasper. His pale face had turned a sickly shade of green. "We used to rob stages together. He… he… he's crazy. Violent! Once he even killed a passenger, just so he could cut off his finger and take the man's ring."

Dark brown eyes closed at the image. Heyes sucked in a deep breath, but Jasper wasn't done talking yet.

"He's a killer, and knows the law wants me as a witness," continued Jasper. "If he sees me, I'm dead."

For a moment, Heyes was sorely tempted to give Jasper a sarcastic reply, something along the lines of… _that sounds like a personal problem_, but the thorn in his side looked desperate. And trust him or not, Jasper was still part of the Devil's Hole Gang.

"Then we'll have to make sure he doesn't see you," replied Heyes with a smirk. "But right now, we've got to find out when they plan on leaving."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Old Clarence's sharp eyes spotted the two men returning to the gang's camp above the train tracks first. The slim, gray haired man stood up from the campfire, coffee pot in hand.

"Is Kid here?" greeted Clarence. "Or already been taken back to Lowell?"

"Kid's still in Porterville," replied Heyes as he dismounted.

Terrence hurried forward and took the reins of Heyes' horse. Behind Heyes, a subdued Jasper dismounted without saying a word. Heyes arched his back and stretched for a moment.

"And Sheriff Trevors is planning on accompanying the law from Lowell when they take Kid," continued Heyes, not letting anyone know what a huge wrinkle that put in the original plans, "tomorrow morning on the nine o'clock train."

"But we'll be waiting for them in Lowell, right?" said Terrence excitedly. "We're still gonna hop the freight train tonight, right?"

Heyes dark brown eyes narrowed as he looked at the boy. The youngest probationary member was showing just a bit too much enthusiasm for Heyes' liking. The worn, tattered cover of the dime novel the boy carried peeked out of his Terrence's coat pocket. Heyes had been surprised when he saw what the boy was reading. The title, _Hannibal Heyes, Kid Curry and The Devil's Hole Gang Take A Riverboat!,_ was the first time the partners names had been called out separate from the gang in a story. Now was as good a time as any for the boy to start learning that real life wasn't exactly like those stories.

"Boys," began Heyes, "we've got a slight change of plans."

Heyes strode over to the campfire and took the coffee cup Clarence held out towards him. He turned to face the waiting men and boys.

"Same plan, but we're gonna have to speed up the timing," stated Heyes. "It starts tonight, and we're gonna do it here, in Porterville."

Heyes squatted down beside the warmth of the campfire and began to go over the details once more. Soon everyone was nodding in agreement. First to ride out towards Porterville was gray haired Clarence, with the three dark haired outlaws, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow. An hour later, fair haired Lewiston, and the two probationary members, sandy haired Mark and Terrence left. Horace Beeblemeister stood beside Heyes twirling the end of his pointy black moustache as they watched the trio leave.

"This better work Heyes," grumbled Horace softly. "I hate to think I'm shaving off my moustache for nothing."

"It will work Horace," assured Heyes with a slightly forced grin.

The Boston dandy picked up his travelling bag and began to pull out assorted clothing. A man's large brown tweed jacket, bright red suspenders, a pair of baggy brown pants that maybe went with the suit coat. Horace tossed the menswear towards Heyes. Nimble fingers clutched the garments. Horace continued pulling out clothing. A lacy black corset, was followed by a scrunched up petticoat, a white tubular roll that Heyes couldn't identify, and a blue watered silk dress.

"I'll shave first thing in the morning," continued Horace, "and I'll need your help getting into the corset."

"Right," nodded Heyes.

"Dear," simpered Horace using a high pitched falsetto voice, "don't you think you should go buy our stagecoach tickets?"

Heyes rolled his dark brown eyes.

"Don't you think it's a little soon for you to start talking like that?" asked Heyes.

Horace stopped trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the blue dress and gave Heyes a mild glare.

"I haven't done any theatrical work since leaving Boston," reminded the slightly built man. "I need to get into character, find my motivation."

"You're Mrs. Norton P. Terwilliger," snorted Heyes, "and all you want to do is get your three boys out of jail and take them home."

Horace held up a role of cloth.

"Do you want some help getting into your costume?" asked Horace.

"I can manage just fine on my own," huffed Heyes as he grabbed the material.

"Yes dear," agreed Horace.

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	4. Shell Games

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Shell Games

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Settle down Maybelle," cajoled Heyes.

Heyes, dressed as Norton P. Terwilliger, with his hair slicked back and dusted with some white powder from Horace's theatrical kit to give it a salt and pepper appearance, rode Horace's prancing mare for his second trip to Porterville late Sunday afternoon. The temperamental animal was not pleased to have a strange rider on her back. Just outside of town, Heyes reined in. Four of the Devil's Hole gang, Jasper, Hawkins, Ludlow, and the blond Lewiston, were headed back to camp. Lewiston led two geldings, Mark's bay and Terrence's black.

"How did it go?" asked Heyes.

The normally clean shaven outlaw leader ran a hand across the unshaven stubble on his chin and listened.

"Clarence bought four tickets for the first northbound stage tomorrow morning," answered Hawkins. Gesturing towards Jasper and Ludlow, he added, "We made sure the stationmaster saw us with Clarence, just like you said."

Walking around Porterville in plain view of the citizenry was the riskiest part of the plan. As the Devil's Hole gang tended to concentrate their robberies on the southern portion of the state, Heyes felt the risk was minimal. Heyes was more worried about Clarence than the others. He didn't want Clarence running into Lom. Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow were new to the gang this year, and despite Jasper's braggadocio, he didn't have much of a reputation in Wyoming. Probationary members Mark and Terrence had no reputation and could only be guilty of hanging out with bad company.

"Then we all went over to the saloon," added Jasper.

"Yeah, we got there in time to see Mark and Terrence starting in on each other," chuckled Ludlow nodding cheerfully. The outlaw continued as if he were describing entertainment, instead of a fight. "Terrence kept hollering, _you can't tell me what to do!_ Then they started punching."

"Broke a chair," said Hawkins, "and spilled a pitcher of beer when Terrence shoved Mark back into a waitress."

"The fight didn't last long and nobody got hurt," assured Lewiston hastily at Heyes' frown. "The Sheriff came and broke it up. Hauled both boys in for drunk and disorderly."

"Did the Sheriff see you?" asked Heyes.

"No, just the bartender, like you wanted," answered Lewiston. "When Mark and Terrence started, I ducked out the back and headed for the horses."

Heyes nodded. As distractions go, a barroom brawl was quick and easy to arrange. And Heyes had learned long ago that brawls tended to get the participants thrown in jail. Now there were three blonds in the Porterville jail. .

"Where is Clarence waiting?" asked Heyes.

"He's sprawled across the bench outside the livery, pretending to be asleep," informed Lewiston.

"Good, you boys get back to the camp, go ahead and have supper with Horace," ordered Heyes. "I won't be back until later."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hey there young fella," greeted Heyes. In the guise of Norton P. Terwilliger, slender fingers rapped rudely on the ticket counter. "I need to buy tickets fer me and the missus on the first northbound stage tomorrow morning. We's goin' to Yellow Falls."

Startled, the stationmaster looked up from his clipboard and papers. The man tucked a pencil behind his ear and stared at Heyes.

"Really?" squawked the square jawed man in surprise. He pointed to the wall clock visible at the adjacent railway station. It was nearly five o'clock. "You're lucky you got here before we close. The stage office is only open half a day on Sundays, mainly 'cause I have to register and label the freight deliveries."

"You don't get many passengers?" asked Heyes conversationally as the man reached for the tickets.

"Nope, but you're the second person today wanting tickets for that departure time," answered the stationmaster. "Passengers usually wait for the ten o'clock stage."

Heyes rocked back on his heels, wrapped his thumbs around his red suspenders and grinned.

"The missus promised her ma we'd be there in time for her sister's wedding," informed Heyes, "and ain't nothing gonna make her happy but the first stage out tomorrow."

The stationmaster waved his hands, indicating he wasn't going to argue.

"That will be four dollars," noted the man. "Departure is at six-thirty in the morning. First person here gets first choice on seats."

Heyes looked up from the silver coins he was carefully counting out. For a moment, he lost Norton's persona.

"You do have enough seats for all your passengers, don't you?" demanded Heyes abruptly. The startled gaze of the stationmaster reminded him of his role. Heyes slouched a little to one side. He pressed a hand against his lower back and winced. "My lumbago is acting up. Me and the missus don't want to sit on the roof."

"No worries about that," assured the man as he took the money Heyes proffered. "First stage Monday morning always has the supply delivery to the way stations. The roof is already reserved for chicken coops. I just mentioned it, because… when we do have passengers, they don't like to sit near the windows."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The stationmaster shut the window to his ticket counter and pulled down the blind as Heyes stepped away from the stage coach depot. Using a spraddle-legged gait, Heyes made his way off the porch steps and past the train station. The posted timetable showed Monday morning's first train southbound scheduled to depart at nine. Heyes glanced down the street. This late on a Sunday afternoon, not too many people were out and about. The only business open was the saloon. Heyes continued down the dusty street. Near the livery, he bent over and pretended to cough.

"You wanna quit that hacking Heyes," hissed Clarence without even opening his eyes. "I'm laying here trying be discreet while I'm watching the jail, and there you go making all sorts of noise. Attracts attention."

Heyes straightened up. He stood still for a moment, then pulled a huge white handkerchief from the pocket of his tweed coat. Flapping the handkerchief like waving a flag in surrender, he bent over double again pretending to hack and cough into the hankie.

"Most people don't like to watch a man blow his nose," objected Heyes in a low tone as he pretended to snuffle and wipe at his nose. Getting back to the business at hand, Heyes ordered, "Tell me what you've seen."

"Trevors' has got at least two deputies," explained Clarence without hardly moving his lips. "They take shifts. I saw the tall older deputy leave, when the young fella arrived. Lom is in and out of the jail, can't really track him. He's all over the town."

Heyes nodded. Deputies rotating watch in a small town was a common enough practice. The description of Lom watching over his town, everywhere, was exactly what he would expect from his old friend.

"One of the deputies came over to check on me within twenty minutes of me settling in on this bench," added Clarence with a chuckle. "Said the town didn't allow vagrants. I told him I'm just waiting on my boys to get done in the saloon before I leave. Man told me I best be on my way before the sheriff makes his rounds. I reckon he's right."

The old outlaw stretched out his arms, then swiftly rolled off the bench and moved to stand. Heyes straightened up from his fake coughing fit and found himself gazing into a pair of blue gray eyes.

"The three men from the Lowell posse are here like you said," continued Clarence. "One just talks a lot, the other two take turns sitting on guard at the jail."

Heyes nodded. He already knew the extra guards from Lowell posed a challenge.

"And another thing, Kid's using the name of Henry Owens," Clarence's eyes darkened, not quite sure how Heyes would react to hearing his last bit of news, news about his partner. "According to the waitress at the diner, the doc was called to tend to Mr. Owens yesterday and stopped back today."

Heyes remembered Lom's earlier words to the Deputy from Lowell, _"If the doc clears that boy to travel tomorrow_…" Although Lom was a good friend, Heyes didn't think the Sheriff would try to stall the posse. Was something really wrong with Kid? The hale old outlaw flashed a grin at Heyes before stooping. Clarence slouched, he moved forward with a shuffling step, transforming himself into the appearance of a feeble old man.

"Would you give an ol' man a boost up onto his horse sonny?" asked Clarence in a loud voice that carried across the empty street. "My sons appear to have left town without me."

Heyes snorted. Clarence had been with the Devil's Hole gang under Big Jim Santana's leadership when Heyes first joined six years earlier. In all that time, he'd never seen a day when Clarence needed anyone's help getting in the saddle.

"We got an audience," whispered Clarence.

The slender outlaw leader didn't even look to see who was watching. Heyes made his own transformation. Norton P. Terwilliger took the place of the outlaw leader.

"Sure ol' timer," bellowed Heyes as if he thought Clarence was deaf as well as feeble. He turned towards Clarence's horse and caught a glimpse of the swinging saloon door across the dusty road. "Is this here roan your horse?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mark," hissed Heyes in a low tone later that evening. "Terrence."

For the second time in this long day, Heyes stood on a barrel and peered into the Porterville jail. This time, there were two fair haired teens in the rear cell. At the front of the jail, Deputy Wilkins nodded in his chair. The barrel chested man from Lowell was snoring loudly from his seat beneath the rifle rack. In the first cell, Kid's still form was now on his side, facing the wall. A brown floppy hat still covered his face. Mark reached the window first, followed by his younger brother. The boys leaned close to the bars to hear Heyes' low voice.

"Are you both alright?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah," answered Mark. "We did just like you said, Terrence went into the saloon first, ordered a beer."

"It tasted awful," interrupted the fifteen year old, wrinkling up his nose.

"And then I came in acting like a mother hen, told him he was too young to drink," continued Mark. The older of the two brothers rubbed his chin. "We started fighting. Terrence has a pretty good right hook…"

"The sheriff came and arrested us," chimed in Terrence, his blue eyes wide. "I ain't never done anything like this before."

"Sheriff Trevors put us in this cell and told us to cool off," concluded Mark. "Said we'd have to wait until one of our parents came before he'd let us out."

"And what did the Deputy say?" asked Heyes.

"The first deputy, the young one, didn't say much, just asked our names. We told him Mark and Terrence Terwilliger just like you said," answered Mark. "But he went off duty a little while ago and Deputy Wilkins came back on…"

"Deputy Wilkins asked us what our Ma would think if she could see us now," interrupted Terrence.

Both boys dropped their gaze to the floor, so they didn't see Heyes' grin. This part of the plan was working even better than he had hoped.

"You remember how that made you feel," prodded Heyes, "be sure and act sorry tomorrow."

The boys nodded.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Kid yet?" asked Heyes.

Not having a chance to clue his partner in on the plan was another risk. Heyes wasn't worried about Kid letting on he knew the boys, but he would like his partner to know the escape plan was in progress.

"No. Mr. Curry was asleep when we were locked up," replied Mark. "I'm not sure he even knows we're here yet."

Asleep? Again? Or still? Heyes firmly pushed his worries to the farthest back corner of his mind. Now was not the time. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the plans for the jailbreak. Later, if necessary, he would make plans to kidnap a doctor too.

"Kid's using the name Henry Owens," informed Heyes. "Since you both are using the name Terwilliger, when Horace comes tomorrow, he's your half-brother."

The boys nodded in understanding.

"This is your chance to get off probation," reminded Heyes. "Do everything I say, exactly as I say, from now until we get back to Devil's Hole and you'll be part of the gang."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Time to get up," whispered Heyes in a low hiss early Monday morning.

"Mmph."

Heyes nudged Horace again. As the first gray streaks of sunlight peeked in between the mountains, the other gang members could be seen curled up in tight little balls, blankets wrapped tightly around themselves. Most of the men faced what little warmth could be found in the banked embers of the campfire. Horace was further away, beneath the cottonwood. Bare of leaves at this time of year, the tree served as a clothes rack of sorts.

"Thought you might want to get into your costume before I wake the others," suggested Heyes.

"Yeah," agreed Horace.

The slightly built man pushed himself up off the ground and rubbed his eyes. He shivered out of his shirt, vest and coat. Standing bare chested, ribs showing on his slim frame, Horace reached for a white camisole. Next he picked up the white tubular roll and tied it just below his waist. Horace reached for the flounced petticoat and slipped that over his head. The garment came to rest on the padded roll giving him a semblance of fuller hips. Horace squirmed out of his black wool trousers, but left his long johns on.

"Need a hand here," reminded Horace as he picked up the corset.

Heyes rolled his brown eyes. Horace pulled the black lacy contraption over the top of the camisole, and turned his back to Heyes. Nimble fingers reached for the laces.

"Tighter at the bottom, so that it pushes upwards," instructed Horace. "Looser at the top so I can add some padding."

"Don't know how women can wear these things," grumbled Heyes.

Horace clutched the tree while Heyes struggled with the laces. When the padding was adjusted to his satisfaction, Horace donned the blue water silk dress. Reaching into the carpet bag, he fumbled for a broach. Clipping the broach strategically on the dress's high necked white ruffled collar, Horace camouflaged his Adam's apple. A hairnet, a blue cloak and small hatbox were retrieved from the travelling bag. The hairnet went over Horace's black hair. Then Horace carefully unfolded the edges of the flattened blue hat. The back was a blue felt wedge, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom. Blonde curls dangled from inside the bottom edge. Wide sides jutted forward somewhat like a sunbonnet would and remained even with the hat's crown. The side edges were trimmed with the same blonde curls as the back. The crown piece was trimmed with a glorious mass of tight blonde curlicues. Horace placed the hat over his head.

"What do you think?" asked Horace.

The dandy turned to face Heyes, typing the hat strings beneath his chin. The hat had the surprising effect of hiding Horace's dark hair and making it look as if blonde hair was pinned beneath the hat with wisps of curls escaping from the back and sides, culminating in a mass of blonde curls at the top front in the manner of the latest ladies hair fashions. Heyes didn't say anything, he just gaped.

"You might want to wake the others," added Horace. "By the time they're ready, I'll be done with my makeup."

"What about the moustache?" reminded Heyes gesturing towards his own upper lip.

"Oh yeah," sighed the Bostonian. Horace rubbed his nearly hairless chin. "I'll have to shave. It will take forever to grow back."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Lewiston," ordered Heyes, "take these horses back and wait out of sight at the camp until you hear the southbound stage."

The ride from the campsite to behind the Porterville livery had taken a bit longer than yesterday's trip. To minimize the number of horses Lewiston would need to take back to camp, the men had doubled up. Jasper and Ludlow rode Ludlow's dappled gray, while Clarence rode with Hawkins. Horace had insisted on sitting sidesaddle in front of Heyes, _"If anyone sees us entering town," reminded Horace, "Mrs. Terwilliger ought to be riding with her husband." _ The other horses were still tethered near the brook, within easy reach of water and grazing.

"I don't like this part," grumbled Jasper as Lewiston departed.

"You are just tired prospectors headed home," reminded Heyes.

Truthfully, Heyes didn't blame Jasper. Clarence, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow had the role of decoys. Their job was to sit in plain sight and wait for the morning stage. There was a small risk of being recognized, but the Devil's Hole gang never pulled jobs this far north.

"Come on boys," encouraged Clarence with a wave of his hand.

The old outlaw stepped out of the shadows into the early morning light. Slouching again, head forward, lower than his shoulders, Clarence became an old man followed by his three dark haired sons. Heyes pulled out his pocket watch, and smiled. It was ten minutes before six. They were right on time. The outlaw leader extended his arm towards Horace.

"Mrs. Terwilliger," said Heyes with a smile, "are you ready to go get our boys?"

Horace fiddled with his dress for a moment, making last minute adjustments to the costume. Then he placed a white gloved hand on Heyes arm. Heyes' eyebrow arched.

"Gloves, a purse, and a fan?" asked Heyes. "A little much don't you think?"

"The accoutrements of a lady," replied Horace in his adopted falsetto voice.

Together, Heyes and Horace walked the back length of the livery, then turned in the alley between the building and the mercantile. Stepping out into the main street on the far end of the building, Heyes took a quick glance right then left. To the right, four men now slouched against the side of the stage depot. To the left, Heyes saw a familiar figure coming down the street. He gave a low groan.

"I thought you said the Sheriff wouldn't be here until eight," hissed Horace dropping into his natural tenor.

"He's not supposed to be here yet," huffed Heyes.

Heyes back stepped into the shadows of the alley, but Horace didn't follow.

"Horace, get back here," urged Heyes.

Whether from sheer bravado, or merely determined to carry on with the role he was playing, Horace shook his head no.

"It's time for improvisation. Go with my lead," hissed Horace. Turning towards the rapidly approaching sheriff, Horace called out in a falsetto voice. "Sheriff! Help me puh-lease. My husband has collapsed."

"What do you think you're doing?" hissed Heyes. "We don't have time for a confrontation with the sheriff!"

"We don't have time not to!" hissed Horace. "Go with my lead!"

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps could be heard. Heyes turned his back to the street and slowly slumped against the side of the livery building. Not a moment too soon.

"Ma'am," called Lom. "What's wrong here?"

"It's my husband," cried Horace. From the muffled falsetto voice, Heyes thought the Boston actor turned outlaw must be sniffling into a handkerchief. "He just keeled over!"

A moment later, Heyes felt strong hands at his shoulders, starting to lift him up. A muffled thud, a grunt from Lom, and then Heyes felt the lawman fall sideways, half against the building half on top of him. Heyes rolled out from under his dazed friend. Horace grabbed Heyes by the collar and yanked him away from Lom.

"What did you do!" exclaimed Heyes.

"Hurry! We've got to tie him up," urged Horace. Holding up his purse, he added, "He won't be out long, he hit his head on the side of the livery when I bopped him with this."

Heyes picked the lock to the back door of the livery. Together he and Horace dragged Lom inside. A low moan sounded from the lawman. Heyes hurriedly grabbed an empty feed sack and pulled it over Lom's head. Heyes knelt on Lom's back, holding him down as Horace handed him some rope from an empty stall.

"Sorry old friend," whispered Heyes.

Lom appeared to be waking up. The lawman struggled against Heyes as he tied the rope around Lom's wrists and ankles.

"Heyes," growled Lom.

"Me and the missus heard rumors of Kid Curry being here," replied Heyes. The outlaw leader spoke in a slightly different pitch from his regular voice, adopting the role of Norton P. Terwilliger once more. "Didn't know Hannibal Heyes was in town too."

A grunt of frustration was the only sound from Lom as Heyes pulled the last knot tight. Tight enough to hold a man for a little while, maybe an hour if the man had experience getting out of bindings. Longer if he wasn't used to such things.

"Porterville's getting to be a real dangerous place," added Heyes, "I even heard that murderer Black Bart Barstow has taken up residence here. Hear tell he's a real flashy fellow, wears a diamond ring."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Five after six," hissed Heyes outside the livery. "We're late."

"We'll make it to the stage on time," promised Horace.

Picking up the skirts of his blue dress just enough to flash a glimpse of petticoat, Horace ran towards the jail. Heyes followed, but moved to the rear building window as Horace burst into the jailhouse. Although the stationmaster knew Heyes as Mr. Norton P. Terwilliger, travelling with his wife on the northbound stage, he didn't want anyone else to connect Heyes with Horace.

"I'm here to take my boys home!" exclaimed Horace in a high pitched falsetto.

Deputy Wilkins shook his head, startled, waking up slowly. Peering inside, Heyes was dismayed to see the dark haired posse member from Lowell in the chair next to the deputy. Horace fluttered the fan in front of his face. The action had both the effect of blocking his face from view, and making him appear rather flustered.

"Huh? Ma'am? Your boys?" mumbled Wilkins, still sounding half asleep.

On cue, Mark and Terrence moved to the bars. In the front cell, Kid rolled over, grumbling something incomprehensible.

"Ma," greeted Mark. "We're so glad to see you!"

"Ma, we tried to find Henry, but got in trouble," echoed Terrence. "I want to go home!"

"You boys have worried me so," continued Horace in a hyperventilating fashion. "Where have the three of you been?"

"Three?" questioned Wilkins. The deputy yawned and scratched his head. "Sheriff Trevors said that iffen the parents of these boys came to get them I could release them, but there is only two…"

"Three," insisted Horace. In his most maternal voice, he pointed first to Terrence, then Mark, then Kid. "Terrence and Mark Terwilliger, and my first born, Henry Owens, son of my dear departed first husband."

Kid sat up on his cot. He first gazed at Horace dressed in blue. A very theatrical gasp sounded from Horace. The fan fluttered. Horace clutched at his chest.

"What have you done to my boy!" exclaimed Horace in a shocked tone.

"What are you doing Horace?" muttered Heyes to himself. "We don't have time for any fool play acting!"

A confused Kid turned to face the boys in the next cell. Heyes sucked in a deep breath as he saw his partner's bruised and battered face for the first time. Inside the jail, the black haired man took objection to Horace's words.

"That ain't no Henry Owens!" insisted Hudson. "He's Kid Curry and the only place he's going is back to Lowell!"

Heyes knew when a diversion was necessary. He jumped off the barrel and hurried to the front of the jail.

"Woohee!" exclaimed Heyes. He stuck his head inside the doorway to the jailhouse for the briefest of moments, waving his hat excitedly and blocking the view of his face. "Did you hear? It 'twernt the Devil's Hole gang that robbed the bank in Lowell. It was the Barstow gang, all the way from Yuma Arizona! The Sheriff is interviewing witnesses now!"

"What?" demanded Hudson. "That ain't possible!"

Hudson, or Black Bart Barstow if that was his name, hurried outside, rudely shoving past Heyes. The outlaw leader made eye contact with Horace and gestured towards the stage depot. Horace nodded in understanding.

"I'll just show that fella where the Sheriff is," said Heyes.

He turned and ran after the man. Heyes barely heard Horace's words to Wilkins.

"My sons and I have to hurry," simpered Horace, "I still have to buy tickets for the southbound stage, it leaves at seven."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes caught up with Hudson near the same alley where he and Horace had accosted Lom. There wasn't any time for finesse. Looking up and down the street, seeing no one watching, Heyes acted.

"Hey Bart," called Heyes.

Hudson turned around. His eyes dark and menacing, a scowl upon his face. Heyes drew back his right arm and slugged the man as hard as he could. Heyes felt the nose crumple beneath his knuckles. The man staggered back against the wall of the livery and slithered slowly down the side of the building. Heyes dragged him inside next to Lom. The sack still covered Lom's head, but the ropes on his wrists were nearly undone.

"Now what do you think you're doing?" muttered Heyes as he set to work retying his friend. "You get yourself untied too quickly and people are gonna start wondering where you got that kind of experience."

Heyes didn't listen to Lom's protest, but moved to the next task. He tied up the newest occupant of the livery, very tightly. There was no way Bart was getting loose before Lom. As he finished, Lom spoke again.

"Heyes!" hissed Lom as he struggled with his bonds. "I might have to shoot you the next time I see you!"

"Ain't nobody, including yourself, seen anyone named Heyes in Porterville!" objected Heyes in a low whisper. "But when you do get outta here, you might want to check your wanted posters for this fella beside you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes arrived at the stage depot at six-twenty-five according to the big clock above the train station. He was in time to see what appeared to be a blonde woman in a blue dress turn away from the ticket window. Two blond boys, flanking a third taller blond man that walked somewhat unsteadily, followed her towards the waiting stage. The woman passed what appeared to be a tottering older man standing along with three younger dark haired men.

"Smooth Horace," whispered Heyes.

The switch was made. Heyes doubted anyone in the stage depot noticed the exchange of tickets. Certainly not the busy stationmaster. When questioned later, he would surely remember selling the blond woman tickets for herself and her three sons to go on the southbound stage. And if anyone asked, he would remember selling an old man tickets for himself and his three sons for the northbound stage. But by then, both stage coaches would be long gone. Lom, or any other lawman chasing them, would have to interview the drivers to actually know which group of passengers had blond hair.

"All you folks headed north to Yellow Falls, Glory Gulch, and Patterson," called the driver of the northbound stage, "time to board."

Heyes strode quickly forward, not having the time to act as spraddle-legged Norton P. Terwilliger. He stopped for a moment before the four outlaws leaning against the stage, waiting for the seven o'clock departure of the southbound stage.

"It's a half hour until the next stage leaves," reminded Heyes. Thinking of Lom tied up in the livery, he tried to reassure Clarence, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow. "You shouldn't have any trouble in that time, but if you see anything you don't like, just head for the woods, make your way back to camp where Lewiston has the horses…"

"That's a long way to walk," interrupted Clarence. "We'll stick with the stage, at least until it gets out of town."

"Yeah," added Ludlow, "Right before the road takes that bend to the east, we'll get off. Meet up with Lewiston and the horses."

"Take the trail over the mountain," recited Hawkins, "and meet you and the others at Yellow Falls."

"It's a good plan," said Jasper. "We'll stick to it."

A slow smile spread across Heyes' face. He nodded his thanks.

"See you at Yellow Falls," agreed Heyes.

The outlaw leader crossed the depot towards the waiting stage. Horace, dressed in blue stood beside the open door of the northbound stage, looking like an impatient wife, tapping her booted foot beside a carpet bag. The driver was waiting for their tickets. Heyes presented the tickets with a flourish before helping Horace into the stage. He handed the carpet bag in and climbed in afterwards. There were no other passengers on the stage this morning.

"You boys sit over on that side with Horace," ordered Heyes as the driver clambered up onto his seat.

Mark and Terrence switched seats obediently. Heyes slid across the tufted leather cushion to sit beside his partner. Outside, the reins cracked. The coach jolted forward. Chicken feathers from the coops on the roof of the stage fluttered down, some floating into the passenger compartment. A few settled on Kid's shoulders.

"Kid," hissed Heyes in concern. "Are you alright?"

Kid sat slouched in the corner. The twenty-one year old blond twisted in his seat. Heyes got a close up look at his partner. A pair of blue eyes, circled with deep purple bruises gazed up at Heyes. Brown eyes winced in sympathy.

"Kid, don't I always tell you to not to put up a fight if you're gonna get arrested," began Heyes. "It just makes them madder."

"I wasn't fighting," responded Kid. "I was surrendering…"

"They did this to you anyway?" exclaimed Terrence. "That ain't right!"

"Maybe not," agreed Kid, "but maybe they didn't like what we did in their town."

There was a momentary silence inside the stage. Kid gestured towards his battered face.

"Of course there is a silver lining," added Kid. "My face was so swollen when they first brought me in, nobody, not even the sheriff, could positively identify me."

For some absurd reason, Heyes was reminded of his mother saying two wrongs don't make a right. It was hard to think of Kid being beaten as a good thing.

"Well what did the doc say?" pried Heyes.

"He said it looks worse than it is and get lots of rest," answered Kid. The long legged blond curled up back into the corner of the stage and yawned. "It's too early. Now lemme get back to sleep, don't wake me unless it's for breakfast."

"Not a bad idea," agreed Heyes.

The sun now peeked over mountaintops in earnest. Heyes pulled out his pocket watch and smiled. Seven ten. The southbound stage should be out of Porterville now, nearing the eastward bend in the road. For the first time since the Lowell job, Heyes found himself truly relaxing. He leaned back against the well padded seat as the stage jolted northwards. Brown eyes fluttered and closed.

"Wake us up when we get to Yellow Falls," mumbled Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	5. Journey to Yellow Falls

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Journey to Yellow Falls

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mmph," muttered Heyes.

He raised his arm to block out the bright morning light shining through the stagecoach windows. He scrunched up his eyes and rolled to one side. Heyes burrowed his face into the darkness of the rough black wool folds of Preacher's coat. He sniffed. Preacher's coat. Kid had been wearing Preacher's coat.

"Ow."

Kid. Porterville. The jailbreak. The switch. Hundreds of little details rushed back into Heyes' mind as the coach jolted towards Yellow Falls. Brown eyes blinked open. Heyes was squashing Kid. The older Kansan scrambled hurriedly upright. On the seat opposite the partners, Horace, with the blue lady's hat slightly askew upon his head, snored softly between the two sleeping teenagers.

"Kid," whispered Heyes, "are you all right?"

The long legged blond man pushed his brown hat up with one finger. Blue eyes regarded Heyes.

"Been better," admitted Kid.

Outside, the driver cracked his whip. The stage creaked and swayed as the horses entered a turn. Squawking sounded from the chicken coops above. Heyes waved his hand, batting away the drifting feathers.

"Sorry Kid," murmured Heyes, "I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"Heyes, you didn't hurt me," interrupted Kid. "Mainly, I'm just hungry. I haven't eaten anything solid since the hardtack Preacher, Lobo and I shared Saturday morning."

"What?" huffed Heyes in surprise. "Don't tell me Lom didn't feed you!"

Kid gingerly ran his fingers along the side of his bruised face being careful to avoid the stitches underneath his chin. Soft blond stubble edged his jaw.

"It wasn't that," objected Kid. "My mouth was too sore for me to eat Saturday night."

"What about Sunday?" demanded Heyes indignantly.

"The doc had some broth sent over Sunday," answered Kid in a quiet tone. He nodded towards Mark and Terrence. "I was looking forward to something a little more solid for supper last night, until the boys showed up."

"What did Mark and Terrence have to do with you missing supper?" asked Heyes in confusion.

"I figured it was better to pretend to be asleep," answered Kid.

"Why were you pretending to be asleep?" asked Heyes.

"Lom brought them in," answered Kid. "He was still there when supper arrived."

"And?" asked Heyes holding out his empty hands palm up, still looking puzzled.

"Heyes, getting recognized by the law ain't exactly a good thing in our line of work."

Heyes' lips curled up in a smirk at the truth in Kid's statement.

"When the posse first brought me in, Lom said he couldn't recognize me," continued Kid. "I don't know if he really meant it or not, but I figured the least I could do was return the favor and keep him from seeing my face."

"Kid, I'll admit you're not looking your best," sighed Heyes, "but if Lom said he couldn't recognize you, he meant it."

Kid straightened up on the tufted leather seat cushion and looked at Heyes quizzically. The coach shuddered as the horses reached the incline and began the long, hard pull upwards. In the corner farthest from Heyes, Terrence turned in his sleep, yawned and relaxed back against Horace.

"Not that I'm complaining Heyes," asked Kid lowering his voice further, "but why did you break me out of the Porterville jail?"

"Kid," replied Heyes in a tone of mock hurt, "you oughta know I wouldn't leave you in jail."

"No, I mean why didn't you wait until the posse brought me to Lowell?" asked Kid. "I thought you promised Lom we wouldn't pull anything around his town."

"Any _jobs_," clarified Heyes stressing what he felt to be the key word. "Getting you back wasn't a robbery."

Kid's eyebrows went up. For a moment there, Heyes was reminded of his Aunt Mary's gaze when she caught him spinning wild plans, scheming, prevaricating. He squirmed in his seat, remembered tying up Lom, remembered Lom's last angry words.

"Originally, we were going to jump the train to Lowell, but then I heard Lom was going to accompany the posse," added Heyes. His shoulders slumped. Heyes looked down and mumbled. "Lom was gonna be in the middle of it no matter where we were."

"Did you hit Lom?" asked Kid.

"What?"

Heyes looked up at his partner in surprise. Kid pointed towards Heyes' hands. Heyes realized he had been rubbing the bruised knuckles of his right hand.

"Nah, that happened when I punched that black haired fella from Lowell," answered Heyes. "I'm pretty sure I broke his nose."

Kid's expression brightened at that news.

"Well I'm sorry you hurt your hand, but I can't say the same about the other fella's face," grinned Kid.

"Might improve his looks," smirked Heyes.

The coach jolted again as the horses reached the summit and began the long descent. The blond man nodded towards the sleeping boys. The grin disappeared from Kid's face.

"Did you have to involve them?" asked Kid. "I thought we agreed they didn't belong in the gang."

A broad smile lit up Heyes' face. Neither of them had believed Mark was anything but desperate when he showed up in Wildwood earlier that year, wanting to be part of the gang, wanting some fast money. Kid convinced Heyes that they couldn't leave the boy on his own in the wild town, so the Devil's Hole gang acquired a probationary gang member. When Terrence arrived in Wildwood six weeks ago trailing his brother, Kid brought the boy back to Devil's Hole too.

"Been working on it," nodded Heyes.

"By getting them arrested?"

"Now Kid," chided Heyes, "haven't you always said that one night in jail was more than you ever needed? Consider it a learning experience."

Kid still looked dubious. Heyes couldn't blame his partner. The boys needed to go home, not be gallivanting around with a gang of outlaws, and not be in jail. Heyes reached into his vest for his pocket watch. Nearly nine. The stage should be stopping at the way station soon.

"Preacher? Lobo?" Kid whispered.

The names of their friends hung in the air. Kid's question readily apparent to Heyes.

"Like you Kid, Preacher's been better," answered the outlaw leader. At his partner's worried look, Heyes added, "Nothing serious, I left Lobo tending Preacher at the Hole."

"Saw Clarence, Jasper, Hawkins and Ludlow at the station," continued Kid. "Didn't see Wheat or Kyle."

"Now Kid, you know I couldn't bring Wheat or Kyle, even though they sure wanted to come," protested Heyes. "Lom woulda recognized them."

"Wouldn't Lom recognize Clarence too?" asked Kid as he leaned back into the corner of the seat, stretching his long legs.

"Maybe, maybe not, five years is a long time," answered Heyes. "Just 'cause Clarence found him and dragged him back to the Hole doesn't mean Lom was in any shape to remember."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Don't know why Big Jim has us standing watch this time of year," grumbled twenty year old Hannibal Heyes. Shivering in the brisk October air, the skinny youth rubbed his hands together and blew on the tips of his fingers. "Ain't nobody foolish enough to be coming here no how!"_

"_Well now Heyes, you never know what a body might do if they had to," responded Kyle. _

_Guileless blue eyes looked at Heyes, the same color as Jed's eyes when his young cousin was in a good mood. Sometime the littlest outlaw reminded Heyes of his missing cousin, although he doubted Jed would ever take up working with something as dangerous as dynamite. Kyle pointed towards a motion on the trail below. Heyes raised the spyglass. _

"_That's Clarence!" exclaimed Heyes._

"_This ain't the way to New Mexico," replied Kyle. The oldest outlaw in the gang left Devil's Hole two days ago with the stated intention of spending the winter in New Mexico. "You reckon he's lost?"_

"_Clarence ain't lost," objected Heyes. Jones was coming back, walking, leading a horse that carried a body slumped forward over the saddle. "He' bringing someone back, and it looks like the man is hurt bad." _

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Clarence turned right back around and headed to New Mexico after he brought Lom in to the Hole," sighed Heyes as he leaned back in the opposite corner of the stage from Kid. "And Lom was long gone by the time Clarence came back the year before last."

"Yeah," agreed Kid, "Lom left about a week after you and I arrived."

"After Big Jim's arrest," remembered Heyes.

Four years after leaving Valparaiso, Heyes located his cousin in Texas. Staying in Texas didn't seem like a good idea at the time, so they travelled northwards. Devil's Hole and his old life wasn't where Heyes intended to lead his cousin.

"We never did make it to Montana," added Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_What do you mean Big Jim's been arrested?" demanded Heyes. _

_His mentor for the past two years had encouraged Heyes to search for his cousin earlier this summer, even if it left the gang short-handed. Outside the mercantile in Wildwood, Preacher continued stuffing his saddlebags with coffee, beans, and flour. A small bottle of laudanum was carefully wrapped within a roll of bandages, two bottles of whisky were nestled in between the beans and flour. _

"_Yeah, the last job was a total rout, law was waitin' for us and Wheat got shot," nodded Preacher. He put a foot in his stirrup and launched himself upwards into the saddle. "Be glad you ain't there. Loomis thinks he's in charge now."_

"_Loomis?" spluttered Heyes. "Loomis will get you all killed!"_

_Preacher rode out of town without any sign of hearing Heyes. Behind the dark haired Kansan, Kid sauntered down the steps from the mercantile carrying their own meagre supplies. The tall blond shivered in his light brown jacket. The Texas coat wasn't meant for a blustery October Wyoming afternoon._

"_Friend of yours?" asked Kid. _

"_Yeah," answered Heyes. _

_The slender dark haired twenty-one year old wondered how much of the conversation his young cousin had heard. Heyes had told Kid about the Plummer gang and of his own run in with the Nebraska law. Six months in the newly opened penitentiary was why Heyes hadn't been there to meet Jed Curry upon his release from Valparaiso. And while Heyes hadn't lied to Kid about his activities when he returned to Wyoming, Heyes hadn't actually flat out told the seventeen year old that he robbed banks for a living either. _

"_Maybe we should stop by and pay a visit," suggested Kid._

"_Yeah," agreed Heyes, "we'll just check up on everybody, make sure they're alright. Then we go, north to Montana."_

_As plans go, it wasn't one of Heyes' best. They met Kyle near Lookout Point. The little outlaw had security watch. Kyle brought Curry and Heyes into the Hole. While Loomis wasn't exactly happy to see Heyes, he didn't object to the two men staying in the bunkhouse that night. Heyes had a good time playing cards and laughing with Preacher, Lobo, Kyle and Lom while Wheat watched from his bed. Heyes tried not to wonder what his cousin was thinking, listening to their tall tales. He and Kid should have been able to leave the next morning, if only Loomis hadn't threatened Kyle. Of course Kyle shoulda stayed at the table that morning._

"_Now Harvey," objected Heyes, "let's be reasonable. You can't go calling Kyle out because he tripped coming out the door and spilled his breakfast plate on you."_

_Harvey Loomis wasn't the sharpest outlaw Heyes had ever met, but he was possibly the meanest. Definitely the dirtiest. Grubby gray pants and a filthy black shirt hardly looked any worse for having scrambled eggs added to the existing stains. _

"_I'm in charge," growled Harvey. "Ain't having no disrespect, not eggs, not Kyle, and sure enough not you!"_

"_What are you talking about Harvey?" asked Heyes. He spread his empty hands wide to show he was not armed. "You gonna call me out for saying you can't shoot Kyle for spilling eggs?_

"_Yeah…," started Loomis._

"_I'd object," stated a cold, quiet voice._

_Heyes turned to see his cousin standing slightly behind and to the right of him. The boyish face that had been filled with laughter during breakfast was now hard and cold. There was a look in the blue eyes that Heyes hadn't seen before, not once in the long ride from Texas. With a shock, Heyes realized he was looking at the Kid Curry of rumor and reputation. The fast draw was over before Heyes blinked his eyes. Loomis was howling, his arm a bloody mess, his gun somewhere under the watering trough._

"_Woohee!" exclaimed Kyle. "I ain't never seen anybody that fast!"_

_And maybe, just maybe Heyes and Kid could have still left then, just followed Loomis out of the Hole and headed north to Montana. If only Preacher hadn't said anything._

"_Only reason Loomis took over was 'cause you wasn't here Heyes, and Wheat's still poorly from being shot," hissed Preacher._

"_Now Loomis is leaving," replied Heyes, "so Wheat can take over when he's up to it…"_

"_Baldwin might have other plans," stated Preacher with a nod towards the second meanest outlaw at Devil's Hole._

_Instead Baldwin followed Loomis out of the Hole with stern warnings to never show his face again, and Heyes spent the second night at Devil's Hole in the leader's cabin wondering what the hell he got himself and his cousin into. Four days later, Heyes walked in on Lom in the barn. Lom had his horse saddled, reins in hand._

"_Are you leaving?" asked Heyes._

"_Yeah, I gotta chance of a job in Porterville," answered Lom. "I ain't got no paper on me, so I figured I better get outta this business while I still got a choice." _

"_Good thinking," nodded Heyes slowly. _

_Heyes and Kid were the youngest members of the gang. He had hoped his trusted older friend would stay. The more level heads in the gang, the better as far as Heyes was concerned. _

"_And neither do you," added Lom. _

"_What?"_

_"There are no wanted posters on you, yet. You should come to Porterville too," urged Lom. "The town needs deputies."_

"_Yeah, Jed and I…," started Heyes._

"_Not him," interrupted Lom. At Heyes surprised look, Lom explained. "A gunnie ain't got but one end. The only question is how many folks he takes along with him."_

_Lom's words were like a blow. For a moment, Heyes felt he couldn't breathe._

"_He doesn't kill people," objected Heyes._

"_He will," stated Lom as he mounted his gelding._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Yet. We haven't been to Montana yet," corrected Heyes. "I'm still planning on it."

"Well don't wait too long," nudged Kid.

Heyes sleep deprived brain tried to remember what he had wanted to ask Kid when they first got on the stage. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time again. Nine twenty. They should have been at the way station by now.

"Timing is critical for this plan," grumbled Heyes. "This stage has one stop before arriving at Yellow Falls at eleven fifteen. The stage Clarence and the others were on doesn't stop in a town with a telegraph until eleven forty. We need to be out of Yellow Falls before eleven forty."

"Huh?"

"Lom will be thinking you are on the southbound stage," explained Heyes. "But when he gets a telegraph telling him that no one matching your description is on that stage, he's gonna start looking for this stage."

"Oh," said Kid finally realizing, "that's why Horace and Clarence switched tickets."

"Yep," answered Heyes with a self-satisfied smile upon his face.

"As plans go," noted Kid, "this has been one of your more peculiar ones."

"Peculiar? Is that any gratitude for you?" huffed Heyes. "We got you out of jail!"

"You put two boys in jail first, and one man in a woman's dress," reminded Kid. "It ain't that I'm not grateful, it's just peculiar. And how did you know Horace was gonna be able to get the deputy to open up the cells?"

"I didn't."

"What?"

"That was Horace's job. He said he could handle it," stated Heyes. "But I must admit I'm a bit curious. What did you boys do to the deputy?"

"Didn't do anything," snorted Kid.

"It must have been something," frowned Heyes.

"It was all Horace. He started crying about being late and missing the stage," chuckled Kid as he remembered the deputy's consternation. "The deputy couldn't get us out of there fast enough."

"You didn't lock him up?" worried Heyes.

"No," answered Kid with a wry grin. Gesturing towards the sleeping Horace, he explained, "Ma asked him for an escort, Deputy insisted he couldn't leave the jail."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A short while later, Heyes felt the stage turn. The driver shouted. Horses neighed. The sleeping figures opposite Heyes and Kid finally started to stir.

"I don't know how they managed to sleep on this bumpy road," grumbled Kid.

"None of us got much sleep the past couple of days" admitted Heyes.

Heyes hadn't slept more than a few fitful catnaps since Preacher and Lobo returned to Devil's Hole without his partner. Across from them, Horace sat up. Mark and Terrence peered out the stage coach windows.

"I sure hope the way station serves breakfast," stated Kid.

"Me too," interjected Terrence, "I'm starving."

Kid's blue eyed gaze snapped to the teen.

"You're starving?" growled Kid. "At least you had supper last night! Two plates!"

Terrence's jaw dropped open, and his face took on a guilty look.

"You were awake when supper arrived?" asked Mark in a surprised tone. "We thought you were sleeping."

"I wouldn't have eaten your supper if I had known," added Terrence looking abashed. "The deputy said you hadn't been eating and to go ahead..."

Breaks squealed as the stage rattled and slowed, the noise drowning out whatever Terrence was trying to say. Horace straightened his hat, patting the blond curls around his face to ensure his costume was presentable. For good measure, he took the fan out of his purse. The driver opened the door and held his hand for the perceived woman in the blue dress. Terrence scrambled out next, followed by Mark. Heyes pulled himself out of the door in time to see Horace being escorted inside.

"I'm looking forward to breakfast," grinned Kid as he started to follow the others out of the coach.

"Kid," objected Heyes. "You can't come inside looking like that."

Heyes pressed his hand against his partner's chest. The look of dismay on Kid's face would have caused some people to relent, but Heyes knew his partner staying unidentified for as long as possible was an integral part of the plan.

"Stay here, Kid," soothed Heyes, "sleep, we'll bring you some biscuits back."

"Oh, now that hurts!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	6. Splitting Up Again

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Splitting Up Again

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Sssh," hissed Heyes. "Don't wake Kid."

When the pseudo Terwilliger family left the way station, the boys carried extra biscuits filled with tender slices of ham. Once back in the privacy of the stage coach, while Horace and Heyes began their wardrobe change, Kid had a long overdue breakfast. By the time Heyes had all the white powder in his hair combed out and removed the padding around his waist, Kid was snoring.

"But how we gonna…?" began Horace.

The slim Boston dandy, attired in his trousers, shirt, and black leather jacket, gestured to the recently removed blue dress. Most of the female accoutrements were carefully folded and placed back inside his carpet bag with Horace's other theatrical supplies.

"Just wake us up before we get into Yellow Falls," ordered Heyes. He tilted the black hat over his eyes and leaned back against the seat cushions for another catnap. "I haven't told him that part of the plan yet."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Quit messing around with the window shade," admonished Heyes a short while later.

Terrence stared outside. At Heyes' complaint, the curious teenager stopped flapping the rolled curtain hanging at the stage window. The blond youth settled back into the seat cushion.

"You're gonna wake Kid," huffed Heyes. "Not to mention, I wanna get some sleep. We've got a long ride ahead of us."

"Yeah," added Mark with an elbow to his younger brother's ribs. "You don't want to startle Mr. Curry, he might shoot ya."

"Sorry," mumbled Terrence. "I just wanted to see where we were."

The younger boy crossed his arms across his stomach and seemed to shrink further down into the cushion. Heyes frowned at the implication of Mark's words. Both boys spent an inordinate amount of time back at Devil's Hole watching Kid at target practice.

"Kid doesn't startle easy, and he is known for being fast and accurate," reminded Heyes. "Have you ever seen him miss what he was aiming at?"

In the momentary silence following his question, the outlaw leader looked down at his pocket watch in concern. Heyes' frown deepened. The stage was running behind schedule. According to the stage driver, unloading chicken coops from the top of the stage always caused a delay, and Monday's stage was never on time.

"No," responded Terrence. "I ain't never seen him miss."

"Do you remember Wheat telling the story about why Kid doesn't sleep in the bunkhouse?" asked Mark, an edge to his voice. "About some man coming back from the outhouse and nearly getting his head blown off when he woke…"

The mound snuffling in the corner nearest Mark shifted. Horace sat up, thumped the travelling bag containing his theatrical costumes, rolled over and laid his head back down upon the bag.

"Iffen you two don't shut up and lemme get some sleep, you won't have to worry about Kid shooting you," grumbled Horace, "I'm gonna shoot ya."

The teen's mouths snapped shut. Any argument the brothers might have had was abruptly forestalled, which was a pity in Heyes' opinion. Heyes really would have liked to have heard Wheat's current version of that old story. It had to be more accurate than the story in the latest dime novel. Heyes leaned back against the tufted seat cushion and pulled the front of his black hat down over his eyes.

"And that's how rumors grow," sighed Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Wha?" mumbled Heyes sometime later. "Lemme 'lone."

A neatly manicured hand shook Heyes again. He turned his dark haired head away, only dimly understanding the words that accompanied the jostling motion. It couldn't possibly be time to get up.

"Heyes, wake up," repeated Horace. "The stage is nearly at Yellow Falls and Kid isn't ready yet."

Heyes felt the stage turn as he sat up straight and stretched his arms overhead. He reached for his pocket watch. Eleven thirty five. The stage's arrival was twenty minutes late. Kid blinked sleepy blue eyes as he awakened.

"Are we all getting out together?" asked Kid. "Or splitting up again?"

"Kid, trade coats with me," ordered Heyes. "And give me your hat."

"What?" asked Kid. "Why?"

Heyes passed his black hat to Horace. Without waiting, nimble fingers snatched Kids brown hat off the blond head and settled it upon his own dark hair. Horace opened up his travelling bag and withdrew the blue dress. The Boston Bandit held the dress toward Kid.

"No," objected the muscular blond. "I ain't dressing up like a woman!"

"Of course not, the dress won't button up on you," soothed Heyes. He pulled off his own brown jacket and held it out to his partner. "Just slip it over and tuck the bodice into your waistband so it covers your pants, then when you put my jacket on top, it will look like you're wearing a dress…"

"No!"

"Kid," chided Heyes. A tutting noise and a shake of a dark head indicated disappointment. "It's part of the plan. We've all gone to a lot of trouble to make sure no one really knows for sure where you went."

"Seriously?" asked Kid. "You want me to dress up like a woman?"

"And I'm gonna dress up like you," continued Heyes with a brilliant smile. He nudged his partner with his brown jacket. "Hurry up now, gimme Preacher's coat."

Heyes smirked as Kid grumbled. Complaints about not having his gun, were followed by complaints about Heyes' planning ability. Kid took off Preacher's big black coat. Horses neighed. The coach turned into the main street as Kid shimmied the blue dress over his boots and pants. Heyes frowned at the glimpse of his partner's blood stained blue shirt before the blond man shrugged into Heyes' coat. Horace held out the blue hat and a lady's fan with a hopeful smile as Mark and Terrence peered out the stage coach window.

"I don't see Clarence or any of the others," murmured Mark. "Aren't they supposed to be here with the horses?"

"Yeah," agreed Heyes with a nod, "but the plan was for them to wait outta sight. We'll meet at the edge of town, behind the livery."

"I ain't riding a horse in a dress," huffed Kid.

"No Kid," agreed Heyes, "just wear the dress until you're out of sight of the station. You can change in the woods near the livery."

The stage slowed once more. The driver's voice shouted. The whip cracked and dust billowed in the windows.

"You and Horace get out on that side," directed Heyes. "Let Horace out first and hold his hand, keep the fan up in front of your face, and slouch a little, and maybe shuffle some too… just try not to…"

"Heyes," interrupted Kid, "I got it. Don't walk like I normally do."

"Right Kid," agreed Heyes. Pointing to the door closest to his left hip, he added, "Me and the boys will be getting out on this side. And if our friendly driver asks about the Terwilliger's, I'm gonna tell him they've already stepped out on your side, headed for the mercantile."

"Yeah," nodded the tall blond man.

Horace, Mark and Terrence also nodded in understanding. The wheels creaked as the driver set the brakes. The coach shuddered to a halt. Kid reached for the handle of the door nearest him, while Heyes placed his hand against the other door. Blue eyes met brown. The coach doors opened in unison.

"Hurry, but don't run," added Heyes. "We want to get out of town before the Sheriff gets any telegrams from Lom."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Where are the rest of the horses?" demanded Heyes.

The outlaw leader placed his hands upon his hips, arms akimbo and glared, squinting in the bright midday sun. Clarence, Jasper, Hawkins, and Ludlow each held the reins of their own horses. Lewiston held the reins to his horse and Heyes' placid bay. Horace's prissy temperamental mare, and the other two geldings, Mark's bay and Terrence's black, were nowhere to be seen.

"Lower your voice Heyes," hissed Kid. The tall blond slipped Preacher's warm black coat over his arms and nodded towards the new building to the right of the livery. "We don't want the Sheriff wondering what you're yelling about."

Heyes glanced in irritation at the new jail. A late stage, a newly relocated jail, Horace fussily folding and refolding his theatrical costumes, and now three missing horses threatened to ruin his escape plan. Heyes tilted the brim of his black hat lower, shading his eyes.

"Why on earth would anyone build a jail so close to the livery?" grumbled Heyes before turning back to face the gang. "Well? Is anyone gonna tell me what happened to the horses?"

Jasper, Hawkins, and Ludlow shuffled their feet in the dry dusty dirt near the corral, then looked at the ground. Lewiston faced Heyes directly. The young blond outlaw opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. Clarence glared back at Heyes and answered first.

"We reached the part of the trail alongside the river, near the gorge," explained Clarence. "Horace's mare started acting up."

"Acting up?" asked Horace looking up from his travelling bag. "What do you mean?"

"You know how Maybelle gets Horace," answered Lewiston, facing his friend. "She was prancing all around, didn't want to follow the lead…"

"And you couldn't get one mare under control?" huffed Heyes.

"A cougar squalled. The sound spooked all the horses," snapped Clarence. "You're lucky Lewiston managed to hang on to your bay. Jasper, Hawkins, and Ludlow had all they could do to manage staying in their saddles. Horace's mare took off and the boy's horses followed."

The three dark haired outlaws looked shamefaced. Heyes sighed. They were lucky none of the men had been hurt. The missing horses couldn't be helped, but horses and saddles were expensive. Kid stepped closer to Heyes. The partners turned to each other.

"We need to get them outta here," urged Kid in a low whisper. "The livery man is watching us."

A broad chested older man had come out of the barn, carrying a shovel. He shooed the sorrel away from the gate before entering the corral, however his eyes remained fixed on the men and boys standing just outside the railing.

"Yeah, you're right," agreed Heyes with a nod. "But that ain't the worst of it."

In the distance, the telegraph office door opened and slammed shut. A young man with a determined stride clutched a piece of paper. As the clerk headed down the long, dusty street towards the jail, Heyes strode over to his bay. The older Kansan reached for his rifle and then pulled his saddlebags off before he turned to face the outlaws again.

"Horace, you'll ride my horse."

"What will you ride?" asked Horace looking puzzled.

"Don't worry," responded Heyes, "I've got a plan."

The Boston dandy stuffed the last of his costumes inside his travelling bag. Clutching the bag tightly with both arms, Horace approached Heyes' horse.

"Clarence, you're in charge," ordered Heyes. "Take Horace, Lewiston, Jasper, Hawkins, and Ludlow due east until you get out of the foothills. Camp there tonight, then in the morning head south until you run into the Wildwood stage road. You should be in Wildwood by nightfall tomorrow."

"What about us?" asked Mark. He gestured towards Terrence. "We can't stay in Yellow Falls!"

Dimples flashed as Heyes smiled. Perhaps only Kid, and maybe Clarence, recognized the conniving look in his eyes that warned of a full-fledged Hannibal Heyes plan. This part of the plan originally hinged upon the need of a horse for Kid, but now realized Heyes, the additional lost horses might actually work to his advantage.

"Oh we won't be staying in Yellow Falls," assured Heyes "I know a good horse ranch between here and Glory Gulch. They sell the best horses in the territory. We'll go there."

Mark and Terrence moved to stand beside each other. The boys looked worried as they whispered back and forth. The six outlaws mounted. Clarence nudged his heels and brought his horse beside Heyes and Kid.

"You want us to wait for you in Wildwood?" questioned Clarence. Bushy gray eyebrows arched quizzically. "Not back to the Hole?"

"Right," answered Heyes firmly. "Don't go to the Hole without us."

Kid stood by Heyes as they watched the Devil's Hole Gang disappear into the trees on the trail leading away from town. The tall blond turned to Heyes. The slender dark haired man shoved the rifle into his partner's hands and began to rummage through the first of his saddlebags.

"Heyes, why don't you want the gang to go back to Devil's Hole?" hissed Kid.

"Kid, some of the boys were causing trouble Saturday when you weren't there," answered Heyes. He frowned at the contents of the bag and turned to the second one. "So I left Wheat and Kyle in charge of security at the Hole."

"Wheat? And Kyle?" asked Kid dubiously. He tilted his head sideways, looking puzzled. "You left them in charge of security?"

"Only because you weren't there," clarified Heyes. "And they're following your security plan anyway."

"My plan?" Kid's voice ratchetted upwards in surprise. The blond turned his head, looking left, then right, to see if anyone heard. Mark and Terrence were still deeply involved in their own conversation. The livery man was too far away to hear and the telegraph clerk was just now reaching the mercantile. In a lower voice, Kid demanded, "Which plan?"

"Plan C," replied Heyes.

Blue eyes narrowed as Kid thought for a moment. His eyes widened as he remembered.

"Plan C is the one for if we both get captured," Kid stated.

"Yep," agreed Heyes. He turned a bright smile towards his partner. "Of course I did improve your plan a little."

"Improve it? How?"

"Dynamite," answered Heyes.

"What?"

"I told Kyle that if he saw anyone trying to enter Devil's Hole without us," answered Heyes, "he could blow the boulders at Lookout Point."

"Blow the boulders!" hissed Kid. "That would block the main trail!"

"I know," smiled Heyes. "It's the only trail Jasper, Hawkins, and Ludlow know in or out of Devil's Hole."

"Of all the dadblamed, fool…," began Kid.

"Mr. Heyes, Mr. Curry," interrupted Terrence, "don't you think we should be getting out of here now too?"

The two outlaw leaders turned to the nervous boy. Terrence looked over his shoulder. Mark stood directly behind his brother, arms crossed, scowling. At the far end of the stable, the watching livery man set aside his shovel and now strode in their direction.

"How we gonna get out of here without any horses?" demanded Mark.

"Like normal people," answered Heyes with a smile. "We'll buy horses."

"Mr. Dawson don't sell his livery stock," objected Mark. "He sends folks out to the Bar T…"

The smile on Heyes' face broadened. Mark's words confirmed what he and Kid already suspected. Too late, the flustered boy realized his slip. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but the livery man was now at the fence line.

"Mark, Terrence, I thought I recognized you boys," greeted the livery man.

Both boys spun around, facing the livery man. The telegraph clerk reached the jail.

"Hello Mr. Dawson," responded Mark with a slightly forced smile.

Terrence didn't say anything, just gritted his jaw in a semblance of a smile. Dawson turned his sharp eyed gaze towards the adults standing just behind the boys. Heyes smiled, shouldered his saddlebags, stepped forward and reached his hand across the top rail of the corral.

"Who are these fellas?" asked Dawson, not taking the proffered hand.

"Norton P. Terwilliger," stated Heyes by way of introducing himself. With a gesture to Kid and the boys, he added, "And this is my partner Henry Owens, and of course you know Abner's boys. I'm hoping you can help us. We've had a bit of a problem…"

The silver tongue spun a tale that was not entirely a pack of lies. By the time Heyes quit talking, Dawson believed the story about a cougar spooking their horses, Norton's partner being lucky he didn't break his neck when his horse threw him, and the stage picking them up for the last few miles of their journey into Yellow Falls. As Heyes concluded his tale, the telegraph clerk came back outside the jail still clutching the paper, turning his head left and right, searching.

"Do you think I could rent a buckboard and team?" asked Heyes. "And we're in a bit of a hurry, my partner and I are bringing Mark and Terrence back home."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	7. A Boys Home

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

A Boys Home

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dawson had barely stepped back inside the stable before Mark turned towards Heyes. The seventeen year old's fists were clenched by his side, his shoulders tight and tense. It was the first time Heyes had ever seen the boy truly angry. Or was Mark scared?

"You said I could be part of the gang," accused Mark. "I ain't going back home."

Terrence's jaw dropped open in surprise at his brother's words. Heyes noted that Mark didn't say we. The outlaw leader remembered Mark's consternation six weeks earlier when Terrence arrived at the Hole. Heyes remembered, that was when Mark stopped clamoring to be actively a part of the Lowell job.

"We need horses," reminded Heyes. With a gesture towards the telegraph clerk who was now walking quickly down the street towards a big man with a star pinned to his chest, Heyes added, "And we need to get outta town."

"Mark, we gotta…," protested Terrence.

"Terrence, no! I ain't gonna…," hissed Mark talking loud and fast over his younger brother's objection.

"And you both are still on probation!" interrupted Heyes before the boys argument could get out of hand. "Do everything I say, exactly as I say!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"How long have you known?" asked Mark an hour later.

The blond seventeen year old flapped the reins urging the rented horses forward. The buckboard rattled and jolted along the stony road leading from Yellow Falls to the Tipton ranch. Kid had finally exchanged his stained blue shirt for one of Heyes' clean white ones. Now he and Terrence sprawled out in the rear bed of the wagon, resting their heads on the saddlebags. Terrence read his dime novel out loud. Heyes couldn't hear the words, but he occasionally heard Kid's soft laughter and murmurs of _"that ain't possible." _Heyes hesitated a moment before answering Mark's question.

"When you first showed up in Wildwood three months ago," responded Heyes finally. "After talking to you for ten minutes, I knew you weren't twenty and you weren't an outlaw. About the only thing I believed was that you needed money."

"Not that," clarified Mark, his face reddening. "When did you know my name wasn't Smith?"

"That took longer," admitted Heyes with a chuckle, "but when Terrence showed up six weeks ago…"

"Terrence wasn't supposed to come after me," grumbled Mark.

"I had to," piped up the younger boy. "School started, and you weren't home yet."

The older teen jiggled the reins again as the horses crested the ridge. They had been on Tipton land for the past twenty minutes, but this was the first sight of the boy's home. In the distance a neatly kept house appeared, dwarfed by a huge barn. There were no horses visible in the adjacent corral. The bunk house on the far side of the corral seemed empty.

"Kid and I suspected you and Terrence were part of Abner's brood," explained Heyes. "I've bought horses from Abner for years. Your bay had the Bar-T brand and, well, quite frankly, except for the blond hair you look just like your Pa."

The front end of the wagon tilted downwards as the horses followed the sloping road. A soft grunt came from the back. Heyes looked over his shoulder. Terrence dropped the book and rolled sideways jostling Kid as he climbed to his knees and peered over the side of the buckboard.

"Why did you run off Mark?" prodded Heyes softly.

"Told you, needed the money," replied Mark pressing his lips tight. "Outlawing seemed like a quick way to get it."

Mark urged the horses forward without giving Heyes a chance to ask another question. Chicken's scattered, clucking their dismay, as the wagon passed the barn. Mark guided the horses to the front of the home. A girl with two thick blonde braids, wearing a blue gingham dress, appeared on the porch.

"Ma! Pa!" shouted the girl, "Mark and Terrence are back! And they brought company!"

The shout brought forth an exodus from both house and barn. An older girl, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, came running from the barn. She was followed by a smaller girl carrying a basket, clutching an egg in her hand. Two little girls that were almost the same size, each dressed in blue and white checked dresses with a white pinafore, ran out the door and skidded to a stop on the porch, staring at the men.

"My sisters," murmured Mark in a low voice. "The loud one is Ruthie, she's eight. Mary's twelve, Emma is ten, Cassie is five and the one giving us the stink eye is Yvonne. She's four."

Terrence and Kid hopped out of the back, while Heyes clambered down from the seat. He moved to stand between Kid and Terrence. Mark stayed sitting stiffly in the seat as if he weren't going to get down. The smallest girl was indeed glaring at the new arrivals. Little Yvonne stepped forward and crossed her tiny arms over her chest.

"Where have you been?" demanded the pint sized child. "Your horses came back hours ago!"

Terrence's face lit up with a broad smile. Heyes glanced over his shoulder to see Mark's reaction. The older boy was staring straight ahead as if he hadn't heard. Heyes shifted his stance so he could watch both Mark and the children gathered in front of the home.

"Oh good, Dancer and Stardust made it back!" exclaimed Terrence happily. "I was worried about them!"

"By any chance did a really finicky bay mare come back with Mark and Terrence's horses?" asked Heyes.

Before anyone could answer, the adults came outside. A blonde woman wiping her hands on a dishtowel strode through the open door first. She stopped abruptly. A tremulous smile lit up her face. The dishtowel fluttered to the porch floor as she raised her hands to clasp her cheeks.

"Mark! Terrence! You're really back!"

A wheel chair squeaked behind her. The occupant of the chair sat shadowed in the doorway. Mrs. Tipton stepped forward. Strong arms dragged Terrence into a warm embrace as the wheelchair squeaked all the way outside onto the porch. The gaunt man seated in the noisy contraption was nothing like the hale, barrel chested man Heyes had met upon his return to Wyoming six years earlier.

"Abner?" Heyes tried not to let his voice betray the shock he felt. "It's been a long time…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Han-ni-bal," called Big Jim. The tall Spaniard beckoned to his new protégé. "Come here. I would like you to meet an old fri-end."_

_The skinny nineteen year old reluctantly quit watching the horses and climbed down from the corral railings. Beyond the barn, laundry flapped on a line. Nearer the house, two young boys collected kindling from a log pile. The front door opened and a blonde woman called something indistinguishable. The boys hurried inside. Heyes turned away from the house and walked towards the bunkhouse. The young Kansan tried not to shiver in the cold November wind as he reached the outlaw leader and the angry man glaring at Big Jim._

"_Han-ni-bal, this is Abner Tipton," introduced Santana. "Abner once rode with..."_

"_Santiago," interrupted Abner, his face reddened in the chill wind, "what are you doing here?"_

_Big Jim took off his hat, revealing thick black hair liberally streaked with white. The outlaw leader gestured towards Heyes. The youth took off his own black hat and held it respectfully at the center of his chest._

"_It's been over twelve years since your brother and I split up," declared Abner. "I don't want outlaws at my place! I've got a family to consider! A wife, children!"_

"_Abner," smiled Santana, his dark eyes suddenly shadowed. "Jose and I agreed, we would not disturb you and your family. However, Han-ni-bal brings a message from Jose. I thought you would want to hear it directly from him."_

_The anger drained out of Tipton. The big man's shoulders slumped and for a moment, Heyes caught a glimpse of something very vulnerable in the rancher's face._

"_What happened to Jose?"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't want…" began Abner Tipton

"Yes, yes Abner," interrupted Heyes with an agreeable smile. The slender man raised his hands to either side as if to surrender. "I know you don't want customers at this time of year, not even long standing customers such as myself."

Heyes swept the black hat off his head and stepped closer. He exuded charm as he extended his hand forward to the lady of the house.

"Ma'am, Norton P. Terwilliger at your service," stated Heyes with a glance at Abner. The rancher nodded in recognition of the old alias. With a gesture towards Kid, Heyes continued, "I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but my partner, Henry Owens, and I have had some horse trouble…"

"Mr. Terwilliger," interrupted the beaming blonde woman as she reached her fingertips out to touch his hand. "There is no intrusion, you brought my boys home! Thank you!"

"Actually Ma'am," responded Heyes with a dimpled smile. "It's the other way around, we're the ones to be thanking you. Mark and Terrence brought us here."

From the expression on her face, Heyes gathered that Mrs. Tipton didn't care who brought them here, she was just glad her boys were home.

"Well don't just stand outside," urged Mrs. Tipton, with a gracious sweep of her arm, she gestured to the open door, "come inside where it's warm."

The girls now surrounded Terrence and Kid, pressing them towards the entrance. Heyes kept his eyes on Abner. The crusty rancher nodded slightly, but up on the buckboard bench seat, Mark shook his head.

"I've got to get Mr. Dawson's horses back to Yellow Falls," stated Mark.

The Tipton family turned to stare at the oldest teenager. The smile disappeared from Mrs. Tipton's face. Terrence looked surprised, while his sisters looked disappointed. Abner's face reddened in a manner suggestive of angry words ready to explode. Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance. Kid's blue eyes rolled as if to ask _"Did you expect this to be easy?" _Heyes hurried to counter Mark's words before Abner had a chance to say anything.

"The horses need a rub down," interjected Heyes, "but Dawson said they didn't have to be back until Thursday."

"I ain't…"

Heyes spun on his heels. Facing only Mark, with his back to the others, the outlaw leader turned the full force of a Hannibal Heyes glare upon the teen.

"I'll help you with the horses Mark," insisted Heyes firmly, "but then I have some business with your father. Mr. Owens and I need to purchase animals to replace the ones we lost."

Under the assault of Heyes' glare, Mark's defiance wilted. The boy's shoulders drooped. Mark nodded in agreement.

"Mark," ordered Abner with a special emphasis on Heyes' assumed name, "when you're done with the horses bring _Mr. Terwilliger_ to my office."

"Yes sir."

Mark clicked his tongue. The horses headed in a wide circle back towards the barn. Everyone else entered the home. Heyes hesitated only a moment to collect his thoughts before he sauntered purposefully after the teen. They worked quietly, unhitching the horses, bringing them into the warm barn. Horace's mare, along with Mark and Terrence's horses were already stabled. It wasn't until the rented horses were rubbed down, and Mark stepped out of the last stall that Heyes grabbed the boy by the shoulders and slammed him against the wooden wall.

"What happened to Abner?" demanded Heyes. "And why would you run off when your family needs you?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Jose Santana was the fourth prisoner in the new Nebraska Penitentiary," began Heyes. "I was the seventh." _

"_What is Jose doing in Nebraska?" asked Abner._

"_He is serving a life sentence," answered Heyes. _

_A shocked silence greeted his words. Heyes swallowed, remembering the man who had taken him under his wing. Guards in the nearly empty prison allowed small pairs of trusted non-violent prisoners to work with minimal or no supervision. Jose taught Heyes more about lock picking than he'd ever learned in Valparaiso. Cleaning the warden's office provided the opportunity for lessons in the fine art of safe cracking. And the older man's tales of his wild youth had kept the young Kansan's mind from going crazy with boredom from staring at nothing but walls and bars day after day after day._

"_What is Jose's message?" asked Abner finally._

_Heyes glanced at Big Jim. The tall Spaniard gave an encouraging nod. Santana had heard the message once already. _

"_Forget you ever had a brother. Forget you ever had a partner. Don't do anything stupid," answered Heyes. _

"_Hmmph!" spluttered Abner. The big man glared at the leader of the Devil's Hole Gang. "Santiago, you ain't gonna listen to that drivel are you?"_

_Big Jim smiled. He stepped forward and draped an arm across Abner's shoulders._

"_Of course not old fri-end," agreed Santana. "I have a plan…"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"It's all my fault," began Mark. Desolate blue eyes showed the misery the boy was feeling.

"Tell me," demanded Heyes his voice hard.

Mark's blue eyes glistened. The boy stared over Heyes' shoulder at some distant point in the barn, determined not to meet Heyes' brown eyed gaze. Heyes pretended not to notice how fast Mark's eyes blinked.

"We were working up in the north canyon," Mark's voice stumbled over the words as he tried to explain. "It had been rainy all week… Pa said not to go over by the outcropping… but I thought I heard… there was a slide, rocks everywhere, dirt, mud... Pa pushed me outta the way, but…"

Heyes loosened his grip on the boy's shoulders. Mark shuddered at the memory.

"One of the rocks pinned Pa down," concluded Mark. "Doc says Pa might never walk again."

"That doesn't sound like it was your fault," said Heyes in a softer tone.

"Pa wouldn't have been hurt if I hadn't…"

"Accidents happen," interrupted Heyes. "And I know Abner wouldn't blame you, so don't go blaming yourself."

Mark shook his head in disagreement. Heyes sighed. That might be something Abner would have to explain to the boy.

"Most of the money from this year's auction went to doctor bills," continued Mark. "Pa has a loan with the bank. The last payment is due next month. Mr. Mersham, the loan officer, said the bank has to have a thousand dollars in full by November first or he'll foreclose. The bank will take everything."

"And you thought outlawing was a good way to get money?" asked Heyes.

"That was my plan," answered Mark. "According to the books, you've always got a plan and the Devil's Hole Gang has lots of money. And since I knew Pa once rode with the Santana Bunch, I thought…"

Heyes' sharp bark of laughter interrupted the boy. Heyes released his grip upon the boy's shoulders and turned towards the barn entrance.

"I thought Terrence was the only one reading those silly dime novels," chuckled Heyes. "Don't tell me you believed them too?"

Mark hurried to catch up with the outlaw leader. The boy nodded as he stepped beside Heyes.

"You might want to ask your Pa to tell you why he quit riding with the Santana Bunch," suggested Heyes.

"Yes sir, Mr. Heyes," answered Mark.

Heyes stopped dead still in front of the barn door. Mark almost bumped into him.

"Terwilliger," responded Heyes sharply. "Your Pa knows me, but I don't think your Ma does. I don't want to cause trouble for your folks. Remember, whenever I'm on Tipton land, I am Norton P. Terwilliger, a regular customer, a law abiding horse breeder. Don't you forget that!"

"Yes sir," nodded Mark. The boy hesitated before adding, "Mr. Terwilliger sir."

Heyes hauled open the barn door and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. Mark fell into step beside him as he strode towards the buckboard. Heyes reached inside, grabbed his saddlebags and tossed them over his shoulder before they headed towards the house.

"Plans don't always work out," added Heyes without slowing.

Heyes remembered, they never had the chance to try Big Jim and Abner's prison breakout plan. Four days after talking with Abner, Big Jim received word that Jose had been stabbed to death in a prison fight.

"And your plan to get money being an outlaw has one major flaw," stated Heyes. "You're not an outlaw."

"You said I could…," spluttered Mark.

"If," reminded Heyes as he stepped onto the porch. "If you do everything I say, exactly as I say, until we get back to Devil's Hole."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Come back here," called Mrs. Tipton from the rear of the home.

The scent of apples and cinnamon accosted Heyes as he followed Mark down the hallway, past two closed rooms. The crowded kitchen ran the full length of the back of the house. Windows faced west to catch the warm golden glow of late afternoon. Kid sprawled in a chair by the side of a long, narrow table. A china plate, trimmed with pink and yellow roses, and covered with traces of breadcrumbs lay on the table in front of him. The three smallest girls sat opposite Kid watching as Mrs. Tipton dabbed ointment on the reddish cuts across his face. Terrence leaned against the wall munching a sandwich of thick sliced bread and roast beef. The two oldest girls stood near the stove.

"Mrs. Tipton, I think Abner wanted to discuss business in his office," reminded Heyes.

"Call me Barbara," insisted Mrs. Tipton. "And Terrence said you hadn't eaten since breakfast. Business can wait until you both have something to eat. Sit."

Mary brought a platter, trimmed in the same rose pattern as Kid's plate, piled high with roast beef sandwiches and placed it on the table as Heyes and Mark sat down. Heyes dropped his saddlebags on the floor between his feet as Emma set matching plates and napkins before each of them. Heyes reached out to pick up a hearty sandwich. The sound of a door opening in the hallway was followed by a squeaking noise.

"Abner," asked Mrs. Tipton, "do you want a sandwich?"

The family patriarch wheeled his way into the kitchen. Kid scooted to the right, while Heyes scooted his chair to the left, making room for Tipton.

"Just a cup of tea," replied Tipton.

Mrs. Tipton put away her medicine kit while Mary fixed her father's tea. The young girl set the steaming teacup and saucer in front of her father just as Heyes finished the last bite of his sandwich. The older man reached for the teacup. Trembling hands fumbled it. The hot drink spilled across the table while the cup itself went into a spin. Pink and yellow roses flashed as the white china cup travelled to the edge of the table, tottered for a moment, and fell. Kid's hand shot out and caught the cup in midair. A collective gasp of amazement sounded from the girls.

"My mother had a cup like that," said Kid as he gently replaced the teacup in its saucer. "It would be a shame if it got broken."

As Mrs. Tipton thanked Kid, Terrence reached for a dishtowel and began blotting the tea. Abner Tipton struggled to control his embarrassment. The rancher shoved the wheelchair back from the table.

"In my office, Terwilliger," demanded Abner, "now!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Alright Heyes," growled Tipton as the slender dark haired man shut the office door. "You want to tell me what you and your partner are doing here at my ranch? And with my boys?"

Heyes leaned back against the door, crossed his arms over his chest, saddlebags dangling over his shoulder. He tilted his head to one side as he regarded the rancher. Although Heyes bought horses from Tipton at the ranch's yearly auction, and the man knew who he was, they didn't have any other connection since Big Jim had been arrested.

"We need horses," answered Heyes. "And your boys have been working for me."

"Working for…" Tipton's face blanched.

Abner leaned back in his wheelchair with a scowl and ran his hand through his graying hair.

"Not outlawing! Mainly taking care of horses and pulling cooking duty," added Heyes hastily. "They showed up in Wildwood, first Mark and then Terrence. We took them back to the Hole, figured it was safer than leaving them there."

"What did they go and run off for?" demanded Tipton. His voice cracked as he added, "Worried their mother sick…"

Heyes could tell Mrs. Tipton wasn't the only one worried about the boys.

"Terrence was looking for Mark," answered Heyes. He sighed. "And Mark had some notion of being an outlaw and getting rich so he can pay off your bank loan…"

"What?"

"Yeah," answered Heyes. "And he also thinks it's his fault that you're…"

Heyes gestured towards the wheelchair. Tipton's eyes widened in surprise.

"It was an accident!" insisted Tipton. "Where did he get such an idea?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask him," answered Heyes.

"How am I gonna get him to stay here and not run off again?" sighed Tipton.

Heyes walked towards the desk and laid his saddlebags down. Opening the topmost pouch, the slender man pulled out a wad of bank notes.

"The mare that came in with Mark and Terrence's horses belongs to one of my men," said Heyes. "So I only need to buy one more horse…"

"I heard about the Lowell Bank and Trust," huffed Tipton.

Dark brown eyes gazed across the desk at the rancher. Was Tipton really getting fussy about where the money was coming from? Or was he just proddy from worry?

"Then you should know this money ain't from a robbery," snapped Heyes. He fanned the notes. "My poker winnings."

"Keep your money, you can have a horse," growled Tipton. The rancher waved a big hand dismissively. "It's the least I can do since you brought my boys back. I just need to figure a way to keep 'em back."

Heyes leaned forward over the desk.

"Abner, outlawing ain't what it used to be since you rode with the Santana Bunch," declared Heyes. "I need to keep the competition down, make sure the Tipton Brothers don't get any fool ideas about setting up business anytime soon."

"Mark and Terrence ain't…"

"Abner," interrupted Heyes as he spread the money across the man's desk, "Let me make an investment in the future."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes stepped out of Tipton's office. The house was oddly silent.

"Everyone has gone outside," explained Barbara. "Mr. Owens is going to try to saddle the sorrel."

Heyes strode out to the corral and leaned against the railings beside Mark. Inside the corral, Kid circled the sorrel gelding swinging a lariat in his hands. On the far side of the corral, Terrence sat on the railing while his sisters leaned against it.

"Kid was your age when he first joined the Devil's Hole Gang," confided Heyes in a low voice.

"I told you seventeen wasn't too young to be in the gang," responded Mark.

Heyes' brown eyes narrowed. He turned to regard the young man. In some ways, Mark reminded him of another stubborn blond, in other ways, Mark reminded him more of himself.

"In those four years, Kid's been shot and shot at, had his horse shot out from under him, had wanted posters made up with his name on 'em, he's been beat up and thrown in jail," continued the outlaw leader. He sighed a moment before adding, "If we hadn't got Kid out of jail, he would have gone to trial, maybe prison."

"I can handle the risks," insisted Mark.

Kid let loose the lasso. The rope dropped around the gelding's neck. The animal reared in protest. Terrence jumped down from the railing and threw his lasso in to help Kid. Together the two blonds tried to contain the horse.

"Could you handle the risks if any of those things happened to your younger brother?" asked Heyes as he too climbed the fence and joined Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The girls had all gone back inside when Mark brought Horace's bay mare out of the barn. The teen handed Heyes the reins. Kid held the reins to the saddled sorrel gelding. Terrence looked from one man to another in confusion.

"Are you leaving already?" asked Terrence. "I thought we were going back with you?"

"One of you boys is going to need to take Dawson's wagon and team back to Yellow Falls," reminded Heyes.

"But… but you said…"

"Do everything I say, exactly as I say," repeated Heyes, "from now until we get back to Devil's Hole and you'll be part of the gang."

"But…"

"Terrence," interrupted Mark. "I couldn't do it."

"What couldn't you do?" asked Terrence.

"The last thing Mr. Heyes asked," answered Mark. The boy shook his head. "If you still want to go…"

"No!" huffed Terrence. "Ain't gonna go joining a gang if you ain't there!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"So what did you and Tipton talk about?" asked Kid later that night.

The partners had traveled east until it was almost too dark to see to set up camp. Heyes leaned back on a flat rock and smiled as he poked the wood trying to encourage the fire.

"I made a deal with him," answered Heyes. "Paid a thousand dollars to have first chance at buying horses before they go to the annual auction for the next ten years."

Kid frowned as he considered the deal.

"You paid extra?" asked Kid. "Just for the privilege of maybe buying a horse?"

"It's an investment in the future," insisted Heyes. "It's a good deal!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We should be in Wildwood by nightfall," stated Heyes the next day. "Then back to Devil's Hole by tomorrow."

Kid looked off to the right. The mountain range with the hidden outlaw camp beckoned to the west.

"If you hadn't sent the fella's to Wildwood, we could be back at Devil's Hole before noon," grumbled the tired blond. "Why on earth did you tell Wheat and Kyle to use Plan C? And with dynamite?"

"Both Wheat and Clarence said you told them to keep an eye on Jasper," started Heyes.

"Yeah, I did," agreed Kid. "Jasper ain't nothing but a walkoff."

"That's right! That's exactly what they said," replied Heyes. "Kid, you weren't there, you didn't see how Jasper was acting. I thought he might try to take over, maybe shoot me in the back…"

"What? Heyes, you worry too much," objected Kid. "I told them to watch Jasper 'cause he's not too smart, not 'cause I thought he was a murderer."

There was a moment of silence as the partner's stared at each other.

"Jasper might shoot you in the back by accident," continued Kid, "but it wouldn't be on purpose."

"Kid, I don't know if that makes me feel any better," replied Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	8. Wildwood, Revisited

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories but should also stand alone.

Wildwood, Revisited

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Yes, thank you. I'll be sure and look up your friend Mr. O'Sullivan when I get to San Francisco," promised Horace.

Kid smiled as he listened to more of Heyes' last minute reminders. The three men strode across the nearly empty street towards the waiting stage. Early morning sunlight lit up Horace's face as he turned to say goodbye. The slightly built Bostonian had three weeks growth of dark hair crawling across his upper lip, not quite enough moustache to twirl into his favored points, but a start. Horace clutched his travelling bag in one hand and the paper Hannibal Heyes had given him with Silky's address in the other.

"If the theater business doesn't work out," assured Heyes, "Silky will definitely appreciate your talents."

Kid placed his hand on Horace's arm as the former Devil's Hole Gang member started towards the open coach door.

"There aren't any chicken coops on top of this stage, you might as well put your luggage up there," noted Kid. "No telling how many other passengers will be joining you, and we don't want you changing clothes between here and Cheyenne."

Kid took the carpetbag from Horace's hand and tossed it upward to the driver. The man securely fastened the bag next to the mail pouch as Horace climbed inside the creaky wooden stage. Dust swirled around the coach and six as the partner's watched the Boston Bandit's departure.

"I'm gonna miss Horace," stated Heyes.

"Yeah," agreed Kid, "but Horace did say right from the start that he was only gonna work until he got enough money to pay for the rest of his trip to San Francisco."

Kid pulled his heavy sheepskin coat tighter as the chill mid-November wind blew through the streets of Wildwood. Beside him, the dark haired Kansan stretched his arms overhead and gave a big yawn.

"Do you want to go back to the room to try and get some more sleep Kid?" asked Heyes. "Or…"

"Breakfast," answered the tall blond with a tone of certainty. "The diner opened at six."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Thank you Ma'am," replied Kid with a bright smile.

The waitress brushed softly against his shoulder as she leaned in to pour steaming coffee into Kid's cup. Heyes nudged his cup forward and she topped off his cup as well.

"Let me know if there is anything else you need," smiled the dark haired woman as she turned and sauntered away, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Food is good here, but the coffee is weak," assessed Heyes. His brown eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "You know Kid, I think the lady likes you."

Kid snapped his gaze back to the man sitting across the table from him. Heyes beamed his most innocent smile. The twenty-one year old felt the warmth of his face reddening under his cousin's scrutiny.

"The lady is just being polite," responded Kid.

"Do you really think that's all?" snorted Heyes.

Kid thought for a moment as his partner leaned back into his chair, eyebrows raised, a dimpled smile of encouragement present. Kid reached across the table and forked one of Heyes' untouched sausages before leaning back in his own chair.

"Pretty much," answered Kid.

Kid took a bite of the meat. Heyes pushed his plate to one side and leaned forward resting his forearms on the table staring at Kid.

"Kid, it's been what? Six months?" asked Heyes in a low tone. "Are you still moping over Deanna?"

At the mention of Deanna's name, Kid swallowed too quickly and started coughing. Heyes shoved the coffee mug within reach of his grasping fingers and Kid took another swig of the hot brew as he thought about Heyes' question.

"I ain't moping," denied Kid as he settled the cup between his hands. He lowered his voice and tried for a level even tone. "Why do you ask?"

It had been six months since Deanna made it quite clear that she was no longer interested in being involved with an outlaw. Kid felt his face flush even redder as he remembered that April morning. He backed out of Deanna's room into the corridor above the saloon, clutching his pants and gun belt in front of him while a bottle of rose scented toilet water crashed against the wall behind him. A small saucer was next, followed by a teacup. Then one boot followed by the other. The sound of doors opening and closing echoed in the hall. The hiss of his partner's voice _"Kid, get in here!" _pulled him into Heyes' room. The gang rode out of Wildwood an hour later. The next time Kid returned to Wildwood, Deanna was gone.

"Three years is a long time," muttered Heyes, before picking up his cup of coffee. "Sure hope you're not gonna take three years to get over her."

Blue eyes regarded the conniving man in front of him. Why was Heyes prodding him? The waitress had dark hair like Deanna. Was Heyes really trying to play matchmaker? Kid took another sip of his coffee while he pondered.

"I'm taking my time, I'm just choosy," insisted Kid finally.

"Seems to me as how I remember she did the choosing," chuckled Heyes.

The tension between them disappeared as Kid smiled at the memory. Heyes was right, Deanna had been the one to make the initial overture. Things had moved very quickly from there. Deanna was a few years older than him and knew what she wanted, but Kid wasn't around regularly enough to be making any promises. After three years, she had grown tired of waiting.

"When Pa was my age," said Kid softly, "he and Ma were married. They already had Henry, and Maeve was on the way."

Heyes thumped his cup down hard. Coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup and onto the blue and white checked table cloth. Kid almost laughed at the astounded look on his partner's face.

"Are you thinking about getting' married?" asked Heyes his brown eyes wide. His voice ratchetted upwards with each question. "Settling down? Maybe having a kid? Or two? Or six?"

"Deanna wanted those things," answered Kid in a low tone. "I'm twenty-one, and an outlaw. Settling down ain't…"

"Kid," interrupted his partner, "I told you before, you don't have to do this. You can still go to Montana…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Lom?" asked Kid. _

_The seventeen year old was still trying to put names to the faces in the Devil's Hole Gang. And Kid was trying to get used to the idea that his cousin's friends were a dangerous bunch of outlaws. Some of Kid's friends in Texas had been sorta shady, and a couple of 'em, like Artie, mighta rustled a few beeves when they were hungry, but as far as Kid knew, none of them had ever actually made a living out of pointing guns at people and robbing them. _

"_Lom…," continued Kid thoughtfully, "the big guy, sorta quiet, level headed…"_

"_Yeah," interrupted Heyes. Speaking fast, the slender dark haired man continued, "That's Lom. He's switching sides, gonna be a lawman."_

"_Good for him," replied Kid in a soft tone. _

_Kid watched as Heyes turned and paced back across the leader's cabin, running a hand through his dark brown hair. Frantic energy emanated from his cousin. Blue eyes narrowed. There was something else that was worrying Heyes. _

"_Kid," Heyes looked up, dark brown eyes tired and worried, showing the strain of the last four days. "You don't have to do this. You can still go to Montana like we planned, and I'll join up with you later."_

_Kid smiled, thinking that he had found what was worrying his partner. _

"_Now Heyes," responded the muscular blond, "I ain't leaving you here on your own. We just have to manage until we can get this Big Jim fella outta jail…"_

"_That ain't gonna happen," interrupted Heyes. The dark haired partner stopped before a small table. Slender fingers tapped the paper laying atop. "Big Jim has been moved again. Word is the law plans on keeping him on the move until he can be locked up in the new penitentiary. Big Jim himself sent word to not try anything. Guards are liable to shoot him before letting anybody break him out." _

"_Is that what Gutierrez had to say?" asked Kid._

"_Part of it," replied Heyes._

_Kid frowned in contemplation and didn't say anything for a moment. The news about Big Jim might be the cause of his cousin's pacing, or it might be Gutierrez. Kid had a bad feeling about the newly arrived outlaw and his partner Smilden. They were friends, if you called it that, of Loomis and Baldwin._

"_Heyes, if we're gonna be with this gang for a while," suggested Kid, "we need to set up some rules."_

"_Rules? What kinda rules Kid?"_

"_Rules so nobody gets killed," answered Kid, "especially not you, or me."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Like I told you before Heyes," reminded Kid, "we're not going to Montana until we can both go."

Heyes leaned back in his chair and smiled. Kid recognized the faraway look in his partner's brown eyes from their schooldays. That gaze always signified schemes and dreams of the grandest sort.

"We could get a real nice spread," smiled Heyes, "settle down like Lom or Abner, they were both outlaws once…"

"Do you think we could ever have something like Abner's place?" asked Kid.

With a shock Kid realized how wistful his own voice sounded. He had once wanted to be a farmer, raise crops, cows, horses, and children like his father. Those dreams had died a long time ago. Kid shook his curly blond head, pushed back his chair and stood up. Finished, he pulled out some money and laid it on the table beside his empty plate.

"Aw Kid, someday, I can see you in a kitchen just like Abner's, with a pretty little wife and surrounded by at least a half a dozen children, maybe more," grinned Heyes. He stood up, and added, "All of them girls."

"What about you Heyes?" snorted Kid as they headed out of the diner. He used his partner's words. "Do you ever think about getting' married? Settling down? Maybe having a kid? Or two? Or six?"

"Nah, I'd rather play poker. Lady Luck is the only woman for me," replied Heyes with a smirk. He pointed a slender hand towards the saloon. "You comin'?"

"Post office first," nodded Kid, "then I'll meet you at the saloon."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Nothing for Henry Owens," answered the bespectacled post master. A pale shaky hand reached for a thick envelope. "But we do have a letter from Denver for Thaddeus Hale."

The man placed the envelope on the counter next to Kid's hand and peered at the list again. Wispy white strands of hair flew left and right as the man shook his head. Rheumy eyes blinked and looked closer at the last name.

"And nothing for J. Curry."

"Thank you," replied Kid.

Kid scooped up Clem's letter from the counter. He turned away, looking down at the envelope, caught up in his thoughts. He had tried both his usual alias, Henry Owens, and as close to his real name as he felt comfortable using in a government building. Deanna knew he received mail from Clem at the Wildwood Post Office. Clem had come to Wildwood a few years ago and somehow managed to meet Lom, Deanna, and every last one of the Devil's Hole Gang. It wouldn't surprise Kid if Deanna and Clem wrote each other too. If Deanna had wanted to reach him, she could. Heyes was right. Six months was enough. It was time to get over her. Kid sighed. Of course that was easier said than done. The door to the post office opened.

"Ahem."

Kid stopped short at the sound. He recognized the big black square toed boots. Kid looked up. He'd almost walked into the Porterville lawman. The long legged blond was very glad that the bruises on his face had long since faded. The only sign of his encounter with the Lowell posse three weeks earlier was a tiny white line where Lobo had pulled the stitches out from beneath his chin. Kid didn't think that Lom would arrest him here, the lawman was out of his territory, but it was best to be sure.

"Hello Lom," greeted Kid. "Are you here on business? Or pleasure?"

"Even a lawman gets a day off every now and then," replied the burly man.

Lom held up an envelope of his own. Kid recognized the Denver address. Great. If Lom was writing Clem, it meant the reward on the wanted posters had gone up again.

"I'm just gonna mail this letter to Miss Hale," added the lawman, "then mosey on over to the saloon. I hear there's gonna be a good poker game."

"Private game," replied Kid. Using Heyes' latest alias, Kid continued. "Ask for Willard Rembacker."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You got everything?" asked Kid.

Preacher stood tying a small bundle atop an already heavily laden brown mule. Just past the mule, the reins to the sorrel horse from Tipton's ranch looped loosely over the hitching post along with the reins to Lobo's horse and another mule. The mercantile door swung open and Lobo strode out with another fifty pound bag of flour.

"That should be the last of it," nodded Preacher.

Lobo hefted the sack up onto the other mule. Kid pulled his hat down lower and glanced across the street. Lom stomped his way down from the post office steps and headed towards the saloon.

"With the supplies Wheat, Kyle and Clarence took back yesterday," added Lobo as he turned back to tying down his load, "we should be all set."

Except for a few flurries in the past couple of nights, autumn had been unseasonably warm. Usually by now the gang was already holed up for the winter. The Lowell job had been the last of the season. This year there were only going to be five staying at Devil's Hole. As soon as Heyes opened the safe and started handing out money, Ludlow, Hawkins, Lewiston and Jasper had taken their cut and hightailed it south. Kid doubted he would ever see them again.

"Good, best get back before the snows start," nodded Kid. "Heyes has a poker game lined up. Tomorrow we'll be going down to Denver for a spell. Then south. Heyes wants to check out the pass on the east side of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. He's heard there's gonna be an extension…"

"The Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe ain't never gonna get to Santa Fe," snorted Preacher.

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Kid noncommittally. "We won't be back until spring."

The tall blond reached inside his sheepskin jacket and pulled out a slender package wrapped in brown paper and held it out towards Preacher. The bushy haired man tucked it away quickly before Lobo could see. Heyes made sure a good supply of whisky was sent back to the Hole yesterday, but Kid found a special treat. Red and white candy sticks, sugar and peppermint mostly, all the way from Chicago.

"Don't let anyone see, especially not Kyle or he will open it," admonished Kid. "Wait until Christmas."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lom was already seated to the left of Heyes at the green felt covered table in the back corner of the saloon when Kid walked in. The blond swaggered over to the far side and sat down with his back against the wall, on Heyes' right. Kid shifted his chair just a little bit so Lom wouldn't block his view of the nearly empty saloon.

"Thought you had a private room set up," remarked Kid with a questioning tone.

"It's not ready yet," answered Heyes. "It's early yet. Not too many people. We will be alright to play a few warm up hands out here until the room is ready, and we can listen to Lom tell us all about the doings in Porterville."

"Doings?" Kid raised an eyebrow.

"We had a bit of excitement in Porterville recently," informed Lom. He gave a baleful glance at Kid. "You mighta heard the Lowell posse came to town with one of the bank robbers."

"No," replied Kid, shaking his curly blond head for emphasis, "I can't say that I heard anything about that."

"Tell us all about it," urged Heyes. A dimpled grin spread across his face and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "I wanna hear every detail."

"Not much to tell," huffed Lom. The lawman wasn't the least bit taken in by Heyes' act. "Turns out one of the posse was really Bart Barstow…"

"Who?" interrupted Heyes.

"Outlaw, wanted for armed robbery and murder," answered Lom. "Sheriff from Yuma came up two weeks ago to take him back for trial. Unless he escapes or someone breaks him out, I reckon he'll hang."

There was silence for a moment. All three men knew that if Kid and Heyes were twelve miles north of where they now sat, Lom would be arresting them, taking them back for trial. And while the Kansans hadn't done anything to warrant a hanging sentence, incarceration wasn't something high on their list of fun things to do.

"What about the man the posse brought in?" asked Kid changing the subject slightly.

Kid leaned his chair back, rocking on two legs, watching Lom carefully. The lawman's eyes narrowed.

"Guess it was a case of mistaken identity," answered Lom. "His mother came and identified him, my deputy released him, and now he seems to have disappeared..."

"Disappeared?" interrupted Heyes with a grin. "What do you mean?"

Kid shot a glance at his partner, trying to will Heyes to be quiet. There wasn't any need to keep prodding Lom.

"The station master swore up and down that a blonde woman and her three sons got tickets on the southbound stage. I telegraphed the Sheriff of Hopkinsville when I was done locking up that murderer Barstow," grumbled Lom. "Clyde wired back, said there wasn't anybody on the stage when it arrived. Two days later when the stage returned, I spoke to the driver and all he could remember was three dark haired men getting off less than ten miles from Porterville."

"You don't say," grinned Heyes.

The big lawman glared at his friend.

"I ain't too pleased about an invasion of outlaws in my town," growled Lom. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

"Lom, how could you think such a thing?" pouted Heyes in mock dismay. "Meeting up with a lawman is never part of a Hannibal Heyes plan."

"Phhfft!"

Heyes pushed himself away from the table and stood up. A slender hand waved in the general direction of the bar.

"I'll see about getting us a bottle of whisky and a deck of playing cards," stated Heyes. "We can start before the rest of the gents arrive."

"And sandwiches," called Kid towards his partner's retreating back. "Don't forget the food!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I don't think he heard you," snorted Lom.

Kid turned to face the big lawman. Lom sat across the table, eyeing him thoughtfully. Lom's dark eyes reminded Kid of his Uncle Arthur's gaze. Lom had the same look as the schoolmaster. Kid resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

"The man the Lowell posse brought in was about your size, had blond curly hair too," stated Lom.

Kid heard the unspoken question, but did Lom really want to know? Heyes always said Lom was a friend, they had ridden together once. But that was before Kid came to Wyoming. Did Lom's friendship extend to Kid? He started to open his mouth and answer, but Lom was talking again.

"I was real worried when Heyes brought you to Devil's Hole," confided Lom. The outlaw traced a circle in the green felt tabletop with his fingertips. "Big Jim never held with killing. The gang never had a real shootist before…"

"I ain't a killer," objected Kid. His blue eyes widened as he remembered his second night in Devil's Hole. "Are you still upset about…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Kid sprawled on his bunk near the door of the large room. His long legs stretched out, his back against the wall. The seventeen year old blond watched these strangers his cousin called friends. At least Loomis and Baldwin were gone. Two less to worry about. The man with the wild hair, Lobo, was tending the wounded man in the next bunk. _

"_Wheat," whispered Kid, remembering the man's name. _

_As far as Kid knew, Wheat didn't have a gun hidden under his blankets. The little outlaw, Kyle, stayed close by, almost hovering, watching everything that Lobo did, asking questions and generally getting in the way. Both Lobo and Kyle wore pistols strapped down on their thighs. Preacher had hung up his holster when he came inside, but his rifle was within arm's reach. The newly arrived Gutierrez and his partner Smilden sat in the back corner whispering together. Three other men clustered near the stove. Everyone was armed._

"_Heyes," whispered Kid, knowing there wouldn't be an answer, his partner was in the leader's cabin tonight, "what are we doing here?"_

_It was nearly midnight. Shouldn't people be asleep by now? Without guns in their beds? Back in Texas, people took off their gun belts when they came inside. Kid's blue eyes blinked. The adrenaline that had been fueling him since early this morning had worn off long ago. He was beyond tired. Blue eyes blinked again. A curly blond head nodded. A head bobbed as chin nearly touched chest. A door slammed. A man stumbled into the side of Kid's bedpost. Jolted a sleeping boy. Hands moved faster than thought. Kid found himself pointing his Colt at the nose of a big, brown eyed man._

"_Whoa now Kid," breathed the big man. "You don't want to shoot me."_

_Shouts erupted from the other gang members. The man raised his hands to either side to show he was unarmed. _

"_You're right, I don't want to shoot you," agreed Kid in a soft, dangerous whisper. "But I don't want you slamming into me neither."_

"_Well now, I didn't mean…"_

_Running footsteps, the door opening and closing. Blue eyes never moved from the target._

"_What's going on in here?" demanded Heyes._

"_That new partner of yours pulled a gun again," answered Wheat. The ailing man sounded crotchety, or maybe that was an act to cover for another feeling. "That's three times in one day! We don't need no gunnie…"_

"_It was an accident," stated the burly man. "I stumbled and woke him up."_

_Kid exhaled. Until that moment, he hadn't realized he was holding his breath. Slowly he lowered his weapon. The man crouched on the floor in front of him waited until the pistol was holstered before lowering his hands._

"_Kid," ordered Heyes, "come with me."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"No, I hadn't even thought about that in years," smiled Lom. "Except to be glad that you and Heyes are running the Devil's Hole Gang. I hate to think what mighta happened if Harvey Loomis or Baldwin had taken over."

"We don't believe in killing," stated Kid.

For a while, Loomis, Baldwin, Gutierrez and Smilden had provided the Devil's Hole Gang some competition in the northern part of Wyoming, even venturing further north into Montana. The Loomis gang wounded a teller and killed a bank patron during a robbery in Bannack Montana two years ago. The enraged posse caught up with them and dispensed their own brand of final justice.

"You haven't killed anyone since coming to Wyoming," stated Lom with a tone of grudging admiration. "And from what I understand, the rumors about the four men in Texas are just rumors."

"Four?" asked Kid, eyebrows raising. "Last I heard it was three."

"That's what happens with a reputation, it just keeps on growing," replied Lom. The lawman nodded towards the fancy shooting iron strapped at Kid's side. "As long as you keep not killing folks, I reckon we can keep on being friends."

Kid smiled. He'd always thought that Lom only accepted him as Heyes' partner, but maybe a lawman and a fast draw could be friends too.

"I'll try my best," answered Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What are you gonna try Kid?" asked Heyes.

Kid looked up to see his partner approaching. The slender man sat back in his seat, opened a deck of playing cards and began to shuffle.

"Try to beat you," answered Kid.

Heyes dealt and Kid leaned forward to pick up his cards. The letter in his vest pocket rustled. Heyes' sharp ears caught the sound.

"Did you get any mail?" asked Heyes.

"A letter from Clem," chuckled Kid. He kept his voice light as he stared at the pair of black jacks in his hand. "I haven't had a chance to read it yet."

"She's probably still going on about her cousin's wedding in June," responded Heyes. "How many cards?"

Lom laid down three cards. Kid thought for a moment, kept the jacks and his next highest card, a ten of clubs. He laid down only two cards. Heyes passed him his cards, and then picked two for himself. Kid lifted up the ten of spades, and held his breath while he picked up his last card. The queen of hearts.

"Clem's cousin got married?" asked Lom. "I didn't even know she had a cousin."

"He's a lawyer fella over in Central Springs," responded Kid. "Clem's last letter mentioned she was looking forward to having a new little Hale in the family."

Bets were placed. Three matchsticks, raised to five, raised again.

"You ever think about getting married Lom?" asked Heyes.

Kid tried not to show his amusement as Lom coughed and spluttered at the question.

"No," stated Lom firmly. He revealed his hand. "What about you?"

"Not me," answered Heyes with a smile. "Lady Luck is my…"

His partner's voice faltered as Kid turned over his cards.

"Phht," muttered Heyes tossing in his cards.

Kid raked in matchsticks as Lom picked up the cards and started shuffling.

"Doesn't sound like he's met the right woman," chuckled the lawman.

"Or maybe he's met her, but just doesn't know it," added Kid with a grin.

A pretty barmaid, dressed in a dark green taffeta dress with a blue fringed shawl draped over her shoulders, arrived carrying a bottle of whisky, three shot glasses, and a platter of sandwiches.

"Do you need anything else sugar?" asked the dark haired woman as she sidled closer to Kid.

"Maybe later," answered the tall blond with a warm smile. He watched Lom fan the cards yet again. "Right now, I'm just gonna play cards with my friends."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
